


Look Down

by Yamx



Series: Deal-Series [18]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Culture, Aliens, Bureaucracy, Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yamx/pseuds/Yamx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Doctor and Jack are sentenced to life in prison, Rose is left all alone looking for allies on a hostile alien world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taffimai](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Taffimai).



> Thanks to Canaan, Wendymr and Lindenharp for betaing.

Jack hisses as the foreman's laser whip lashes across his back with an electric crackle, leaving a finger-wide shallow burn right across his shoulder blades. The tool is adjusted to hurt but not injure severely. This ensures prisoners can still work, but makes it agonizing. The newest mark crosses the half-dozen or so he already has. It takes all his willpower to bite back a curse. Beside him, he feels the Doctor tense, ready to turn and give the guard what-for. Jack grabs his wrist and urgently shakes his head.

It's not worth it. They've seen where it leads. More beatings, and water and food rations cut for their whole unit. As if the nature of their offense doesn't already make them unpopular enough with the other convicts.

Jack grits his teeth, grabs the shovel more tightly and picks up his pace. He feels the Doctor's concerned gaze but keeps his eyes on the ditch. It's only two more hours till the end of their twelve hour shift, and with any luck they might even be granted a short water break before that. He can get through this.

*****

Rose puts on her most polite smile as she finally reaches the front of the queue. It's taken her days to get to this office. She was given the bureaucratic run-around, paying countless visits to the High Prefecture to find out where Jack and the Doctor were taken, and what crime they were charged with. She had fruitless consultations with a lawyer who basically told her a crime as disgusting as theirs deserves no defense — though he at least told her whom to bribe to get their possessions back and who would sell her their prison ID numbers for the right price. The bribes have almost depleted the generous stack of credit crystals the Doctor had slipped her on what was supposed to be a fun little shopping trip. About a week ago now. Seems like years.

But now she's finally in the right place, finally at least in the same building with them. If nothing goes wrong now…

"What is it?" The young officer behind the counter looks at Rose through thick glasses, his tone somewhere between bored and challenging. His sallow skin is spotted with greenish blemishes. In Earth terms, he seems barely more than a teenager.

Rose curls her hands into loose fists and touches the knuckles together — a gesture of respect that she's picked up since their arrival. "Hello. I would like to visit two of your prisoners. Please." She hands over the paper with the ID numbers.

The officer frowns as he looks down at the numbers. "Relation?" he asks, taking a form from a drawer and fishing for a pen.

Rose considers. She can't risk being turned away for not being related. And she doesn't know if a flash of the psychic paper stuck in the back pocket of her jeans will be enough, or if they will do a DNA test.

Jack and she are the same species, so she might be able to claim he's a cousin or something. But there's really only one way she could be related to a member of another species. "I'm the Doctor's wife."

The officer sneers. "Not anymore, you aren't."

Rose stares. What the hell is that supposed to mean? "But I…"

"Due to the gravity of his crime, any marriage he may have been in was dissolved when he was sentenced."

Oh god. That makes a terrible kind of sense.

"It was done to free you of his unholy sway. You should be grateful."

What would the Doctor do? Rose thinks frantically. Act stupid, a little voice inside her head whispers.

Right. Play the tourist.

"I'm sorry," Rose says, faking a French accent. She has no idea what the TARDIS translator will do with that, but she hopes it'll be something plausible. "We're not from here. I must be using the wrong word. We're not married. He's my… my… the man of my mother? I'm of his blood?" If they do do DNA tests here, she's screwed now, but she had to take the risk.

"Your father? You're his daughter?" The officer's eyes are suddenly full of pity.

"Right! Thank you," Rose nods.

"I'm so sorry. To be born the innocent child of such a-"

The TARDIS doesn't translate the next word, and Rose is grateful.

The officer's eyes suddenly fill with suspicion. "You're not related to that other one too, are you?"

Rose is about to say yes, but the expression on the officer's face makes her hesitate.

"Why?" she asks slowly, hoping it will be taken as a foreigner's confusion, not insolence.

"Because that would also make him related to your father, and given the nature of their crime…" The officer's voice trails off. He performs a hand gesture that Rose doesn’t know, but that certainly seems very rude.

"No." She shakes her head. "He's just a… family friend."

The officer sneers. "You mean he's your father's-" Again, the TARDIS doesn't translate the last word, but Rose can imagine only too well what it was.

She nods, looking away in a gesture that's meant to conceal her anger, but she hopes will look like shame. She feels like she's betraying Jack, but if she can only see one of them, it has to be the Doctor. Not that she's any less worried about Jack, but the Time Lord is the one who probably already has a plan and can tell her what to do to get them out of there.

"Can I see my… father, then?" she asks weakly.

The officer punches a number into his terminal and studies the data that pops up. "The prisoners of his unit are on work detail. You can see your father on Templeday." The last day of the week, which occurs every eight days here. Two days from now.

Rose sighs, but nods. She's already learned there's no point arguing with the bureaucracy of this world. "Thank you." She performs the respectful hand gesture again, then turns and leaves. She'll just have to find a constructive way to use the time. Make preparations.

*****

The Doctor sits down with a grunt of exhaustion, leaning against the enclosure's wall. Jack is next to him, morosely chewing on the small piece of _takré_ — hard, grainy bread fortified with some sort of multivitamin — that he's been given. The Doctor tries to share his own with him, but Jack just shakes his head. He leans against the Doctor's shoulder tiredly.

The one small mercy in all this is that once they throw someone in prison, the Itawambi really don't care what becomes of them. He was worried, initially, that Jack and he might be separated, put into different units or even different penitentiaries. But it appears that no one cared enough.

His chest is itchy with sweat. He rubs it, tugging on his grey uniform shirt. The orange 24-601 on the front stains his sweat-drenched fingers. The 601, he knows, is to ID him, just as Jack has 602. But it's the 24 that makes them particular targets for the guards', and even the other prisoners', scorn and cruelty.

24, for the law they broke. The 24th law of Itawamba: "Men shall not have relations with men, nor women with women, for the gods look upon such acts with scorn." If only he'd known that nine days ago.

 _It was a beautiful day — a sunny violet sky, the two green suns pleasantly warm but not too hot, and a pleasant breeze playing through the yellow trees. The bazaar was dotted with multicolored tents and booths, offering everything from the spicy deep-fried cakes Jack is so fond of to the artfully spun silk garments they'd promised Rose._

 _Jack had just talked him into sampling another one of those cakes — ants and guguberries, a combination that managed to be at once too sweet and too sour for his liking — when Rose came running up to them, brandishing a pink and orange piece of glossy silk — the colors hurt his eyes too badly to be quite sure, but he thought it might be a skirt._

 _"Doctor, Jack, look! Isn't this gorgeous?" The bright smile on her face made him like the skirt quite a bit better. He beamed and nodded._

 _Jack looked at the garment with appreciation. "That'll look stunning on you. Do they have a top to go with it?"_

 _Rose grinned. "Nope. But they have great scarves. I want to get one for Mum. Can I have some more of those crystals, please?"_

 _The Doctor handed over an assortment of the crystal cubes that passed for currency here. "There. Enough to buy most of the bazaar, this, so don't lose them," he grumbled, but with a grin to show he really was pleased. It had taken him a long time to get both of his companions to the point where they unabashedly asked him for money if they wanted something. They both had their pride, and it had taken numerous explanations of how little money mattered to him, and finally a threat of starting to pay them salaries for the work they did on board — Jack's technical expertise would qualify him for substantial wages on any other ship, and Rose frequently took care of the more domestic side of things. And that was just on board — once he reminded them how often they'd all saved each other's life and pointed out the sheer number of times he'd asked them to risk theirs, the ridiculousness of being ashamed about sharing money had finally sunk in._

 _"Wanna help me pick something nice for her?" Rose asked, her tongue curled around her teeth._

 _The Doctor groaned._

 _"Later, hon," Jack chuckled. "I want to try a few more of these cakes first. I think I saw some with sheep eyeballs!"_

 _"Ew. Have fun with that." Rose turned and disappeared in the direction of a large saffron-and-peach tent._

 _"Nice save." The Doctor smiled. "Just what I need, being asked my opinion on Jackie Tyler's complexion or somesuch. Surest way to get smacked."_

 _Jack laughed. "Aw, c'mon. No one buys the grumpiness act, y'know?" He leaned in and kissed the frown right off him, playing his tongue over all the most sensitive spots in the Doctor's mouth._

And that's how the misery started. Burly soldiers with laser weapons, the two of them being shackled and stripped of their possessions right there next to the deep-frying booth, Rose's terrified face as they were dragged away, and all his demands for an explanation being met with complete silence.

The "trial" had taken five minutes. Several soldiers had testified to their "unnatural aberration." They hadn't even got a chance to defend themselves.

"These aliens are sentenced to hard labor for life for violation of the 24th law of Itawamba, with no appeal, pardon, or parole." The judge had sounded almost bored when he said it, but the corners of his mouth had been turned down with disgust.

And two hours later, they were here.

Of course, he planned to escape. Well, in theory he's still planning to. He pulls Jack closer to him and kisses his neck gently. Dirty looks be damned.

With every day that passes, with every new fact he learns about the prison, with every wound and every sparse meal and every freezing night, one realization edges closer and closer to his mind:

He can't get them out of here. Not by himself. It'll take some outside influence, some extraordinary stroke of luck. That doesn’t mean he'll stop trying, but it does mean that for now, keeping them alive and hoping for something to turn up is pretty much the only plan he's got.

Jack snuggles closer and strokes a hand across the Doctor's chest tenderly. His hand is trembling.

He looks at Jack worriedly. "All right?"

Jack nods. "Muscle fatigue. Just need some rest."

Yeah. A few hours' sleep on the hard ground, in the biting cold. Jack won't feel better by morning. The Doctor gently cups Jack's neck and carefully rubs the tender spot near his hairline. It's all they can do for each other right now — little caresses, stolen smiles.

He's just glad that he taught Rose how to use the emergency program to get home. She'll be back with Jackie now, safe and sound. He and Jack don't talk about it — it means she's safe, but it also means that, even if they get out, they'll be stuck in this time, and possibly on this planet, unless they somehow manage to procure a ship, or manage to steal Jack's vortex manipulator right out from under their jailers' noses.

Nevertheless, he knows the thought is a comfort to Jack just as much as to himself. Rose is safe.

*****

Rose enters the dingy bar near the Itawamba City space port, trying to hide her shaking knees. Everyone around her is twice her size and armed to the gills.

She smooths down the leather vest she's wearing over black jeans and an olive shirt with cut-off sleeves. Trying to blend in, to look tough — well, the only thing she'd been able to think of was to copy an outfit she'd seen Jack wear in a similar dive. The TARDIS even managed to produce a pair of black combat boots in her size — with a hidden knife sheath.

She put a knife there, and she's wearing one of Jack's smaller blasters in a hip holster, but she knows that if she gets in a situation where she actually needs to use either, she's screwed. She's not a fighter.

That's why she's trying to hire some.

A heavy hand lands on her shoulder and she's pulled around roughly, long claws digging into her flesh, only just not breaking the skin. "Hello there, you pretty thing! Wanna dance?" The large alien who makes Rose think of a cross between Chewbacca and a shark flashes three rows of shiny teeth at her in a smile that is not at all reassuring.

She pulls herself up to her full height, which brings her to about the alien's collar bone. She lifts her chin and stares straight at the point between his eyes — an intimidation tactic she's learned from Jack. Trying her best to sound like the Doctor when someone threatens one of his own, she snarls. "Pull back that paw if you want to keep it."

For a moment, the alien actually looks startled, but then he laughs. "Tryin' to scare me, little girl?" He puts his left hand on her hip.

This is bad. Really bad. Rose is sure he can see the pearls of sweat dotting her forehead. She wonders if he can hear her heart race. With a movement born of desperation more than strength, she brings the edge of her hand down sharply just at the point where his wrist connects to his hand. A weak point. Vulnerable without much force in most species. If she lives to tell the tale, Jack will be proud she remembered.

With a curse, the alien jumps back from her. His eyes turn red and he snarls with rage. "You'll regret that, harlot!" His hand moves under his tunic.

"Ey!" A booming voice comes from the bar. "Jando! You ever want to drink in this establishment again, you pipe down and leave right now."

The alien looks around — his anatomy makes it necessary for him to turn his entire torso to do so. Rose takes the chance to back away. "But Luo, she…"

"Out! You can come back tomorrow when you're sober and civil."

Taking another step away from Jando, Rose gets her first look at the bartender. He seems to be one of the natives of this planet — tall, burly, but not nearly as intimidating as the shark-Chewbacca in front of her. Except for the extremely large gun in his hands, leveled steadily and unblinkingly at Jando.

"I'm not going to tell you again. Walk out or be carted out with the rest of the rubbish." Luo sounds more like the Doctor than anyone Rose has ever encountered except the Time Lord himself.

With a mumbled curse, Jando turns towards the door. The other patrons clear a way for him and avoid eye contact, but Rose hears more than few snickers.

She makes her way to the bar. "Thanks." She smiles at the barman, who's in the process of storing his gun under the counter again — in easy reach, no doubt.

He looks at her and nods towards a free bar stool. "Sit where I can see you. Gonna have to keep an eye on you, scrawny little alien that you are. Gonna attract nothing but trouble in a place like this."

Rose bristles, but sits in the proffered place. "Maybe that's what I'm here for," she starts cautiously.

Luo's eyes sharpen. "You came looking for trouble?

Rose gulps. If she's wrong about the nature of this place, if Luo's a law abiding citizen who reports any suspicious activity to the authorities — but the evidence, and her gut, tell her otherwise. "Looking for someone who can take care of trouble. _Official_ trouble."

Luo looks her up and down, then pours a generous quantity of bubbling red liquid into a small glass and places it in front of her. "Drink up." It's challenge as much as invitation.

Rose picks up the glass and sniffs it cautiously. But really, what reason would Luo have to poison her just after bailing her out? He'd have easier ways to harm her if that was what he wanted. She downs the fluid.

It's like molten metal. All her reflexes tell her to spit it out, but she clamps her mouth shut and swallows right through the pain. This is a test. A bonding ritual. She understands, because the blokes have explained it to her. If she can take the pain, it might win her just enough respect to get a few straight answers.

She slams the empty glass on the bar upside-down, the way she's seen Jack do countless times. Luo grins at her. "That substance is illegal in 49 systems. Including this one."

Rose snorts. "Don't you think if the police was going to send someone in here undercover, they'd have picked someone who blends in a bit better?" She looks around the bar. She's the only human, one of a handful of females, and the only one under six feet. "Or, you know, at all?" She grins at him, deliberately curling her tongue around her teeth.

Luo throws his head back and laughs. "Whatcher wanna drink? It's on the house."

Rose shifts in her seat. "I really came to find someone to talk to about-"

"You're way too early for that. Have a few drinks, I'll let you know when they show up." He slabs a tall glass of _looshkeer_ — a fruity cocktail she's familiar with from several worlds and that seems to have a certain reputation as a "girly drink" — in front of her, closely followed by a bowl of bright purple roasted nuts.

Rose still feels queasy from the first drink, her throat seems to be on fire, and the background noises in the bar sound eerily off-key. She sips the _looshkeer_ and nibbles the snacks and hopes like hell that she's really found an in and is not just making an enormous fool of herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The planet is named in "honor" of the Itawamba county school board, who [ canceled prom rather than allowing a lesbian student to attend with her girlfriend.](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2010_Itawamba_County_School_District_prom_controversy)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Canaan, Wendymr and Lindenharp for betaing!

"Luo says you might have a business proposition?" The tall man appearing at her right shoulder is the same species as Jando, but he's keeping his hands to himself and his tone is business-like, if wary.

Rose sternly reminds herself that she would _not_ want to be judged by the actions of many members of her own species, either, and holds out her hand. "I'm Rose Tyler."

He looks at her hand, faintly puzzled, for a moment, then grabs and squeezes it briefly, clearly careful not to hurt her with his superior strength. "Torrif. Me 'n my crew" – he vaguely gestures behind him, but Rose can't see anything over his broad shoulders – "we take care of… problems. For the right price."

Rose nods. "I can pay." Well, the Doctor can, as soon as she gets him back.

Torrif looks her up and down speculatively. "Two guys looked like you were arrested 'n thrown in the slammer not too long ago." It's a simple statement, but there's challenge in his eyes.

She takes a deep breath. This is a risk. It could be a trap. But there's no way she can get the blokes out by herself, so she has to trust him. "I want them out."

He nods. "24ers, innit?"

She bristles, staring him straight in the eyes. "That a problem?"

He shrugs. "Doesn't matter to me what kind of deviants they are, long as the pay is right."

"They're not deviants! I'm sick and tired of that bigoted bullshit." Maybe she's had a bit more _looshkeer_ than was strictly wise, but she's fed-up. "You want to do business with me, you don't talk about my friends like that!"

Torrif looks startled, then he grins. "Right you are. My ma always said not to badmouth my employers." He gestures to Luo, who places two shots of what might be whiskey or might be something else entirely in front of them. "Well, Rose Tyler, I think you got yourself a business contact." He gulps down the drink and waits until she does the same. "Now let's talk terms."

*****

Jack's muscles ache, and he's so exhausted he can barely keep his eyes open – and still he can't sleep. The crowded train wagon they've been herded into is too small for them to lie down or even sit, so he's leaning in a corner, hot and stifled and desperate for some water.

They're being brought back to the main prison. In a day or two, they'll be deployed on a new work detail. He dearly hopes they'll be allowed some rest in between, but he doubts it. Prisoners here are little more than cattle. In fact, cattle's usually treated better.

The train hits a bump and he startles upright, his eyes wide and his heart in his throat. He's never going to get any sleep like this.

The Doctor looks at him and, without comment, pulls him tightly against himself. "Sleep, lad. I've got you."

Jack tries to keep his voice from shaking. "Could you…?" He briefly touches his temple. If the Doctor can help him sleep, if he can just take the pain away for a little bit...

A sharp shake of the head. "Not here."

Of course not. The Doctor's right. What was he thinking? If the other prisoners find out the Doctor is telepathic, they'll tell the guards; they hate the two of them that much. And god knows what might happen then. With their luck, telepathy is probably considered an abomination here, too.

The Doctor pulls him closer and kisses him, pouring love, support, and a not small amount of fuck all this into the gesture.

"Ey! None of that 24 stuff! You're disgusting!" In the semi-darkness, he's not even sure where the voice comes from.

The Doctor half-turns his head. "We're stuffed with fifty men in a wagon big enough for twenty, none of us have seen a shower in weeks, half of you have pissed or shat on the floor by this point. An' you're gonna be disgusted by a kiss?" His voice is sharp with barely-controlled anger. "Close your eyes if it bothers you. Wish I could close my nose."

Jack tenses. If the others turn on them in here… but incredibly, the grumbling subsides. The Oncoming Storm carries the day again. Or maybe the others are just too exhausted to really care.

He sinks against the Doctor, not ashamed to have his lover hold him upright. And he slips a hand around the Doctor's waist and gently squeezes his ass in a gesture of thanks and defiance. No one notices in the crowded carriage, but the Doctor's frame softens.

*****

Rose knows that, realistically, she can't have searched every drawer, box and cupboard in the TARDIS, but it feels like it. Torrif and his crew want half their payment up front, and the crystals she had left only covered about a quarter of that. They agreed to give her two days to come up with more – another fifteen thousand gilling, plus extra for any expenses they might incur. But she can't find any more of the crystal cubes anywhere on the TARDIS.

She feels in her pocket for the sonic screwdriver. Tomorrow is Templeday. If they let her see the Doctor, and if she can find a way to tell him what she needs, maybe he can tell her the setting to access one of the local cashpoints. If not, she'll start hocking tech and jewelry, but that might attract more attention than she can afford.

She sighs and turns towards the kitchen. She doesn’t feel like eating – hasn't since all this started – but she remembers the Doctor's lectures on keeping her strength up when things are bad. She can probably manage a sandwich and some soup.

*****

Jack stumbles as the other prisoner's boot hits him in the rear. He tries to keep his bowl steady, but it's no use. He curses as half the precious soup spills into the dust.

He whirls around and challenges his assailant – Kibir, a tall fellow from the country. A murderer, as the 17 on his chest proclaims. And still he is less despised here than the Doctor and Jack. "That was all I'll get till tomorrow, swine!"

Kibir grins. "Didn't think you'd mind. Don't you have something else to… fill you up?"

The other prisoners chuckle. Jack snarls. He's already found out that on this world, "being filled up" is a crude term for taking it up the ass. Which is indeed one of his favorite activities, of course, and one he's normally perfectly happy to joke about. But not in this tone. Not with these men, who're looking at him like he's something scraped off the bottom of a garbage pail.

He feels a hand on his shoulder and whirls around, pulling his left back for a punch, his right still desperately balancing what little food he has left.

It's the Doctor. And he's offering him his bowl. Jack's fist drops.

"Here, lad. Have mine."

"You need-"

"Not as much as you do." The Doctor takes his bowl from him and swallows the miserable drags left in it. "This'll do me till tomorrow. Here." He puts Jack's hand on his own bowl.

Jack hates himself for this, but he takes it. He shouldn't be taking advantage of his lover's superior stamina, but the hunger's too strong. He takes the bowl and begins to sip, too ashamed to look into the Doctor's eyes.

So the first warning he has of the arrival of the Oncoming Storm is the freezing cold in the Doctor's voice as it rings out across the yard. "You lot should be ashamed of yourselves. Aren't we downtrodden enough without making it worse for each other?"

Jack looks around. Everyone but him is looking at the Doctor. And his lover is staring at each of them in turn, making them avert their eyes one by one. Last, his eyes lock on Kibir. The bulky alien stares back, lifting his chin. Jack can feel every prisoner in the yard holding his breath, watching the silent battle. He hastily gulps down the rest of the soup and puts down the bowl. This will get ugly.

"Hey! What's going on here?" a sharp voice barks. Everyone but Kibir and the Doctor looks around at the small group of guards heading for them. They're lead by a young officer with two silver stripes across his chest. Most of the prisoners hastily step back, not wanting to be associated with the trouble.

Jack remains by the Doctor's side. He tries to distract the guards with a winning smile. "Nothing wrong here, sir."

"This waste of space kicked Jack, made him spill what little food you'll give him." The Doctor's eyes are still glued to Kibir.

The officer frowns, looking back and forth between them. Then he grins. "I'm sure you'll find some other way to fill up your little toy."

The Doctor's head snaps around and his eyes bore into the officer, who takes a startled step back. The primeval wrath on the Doctor's face even makes Jack shudder. He quickly steps forward and puts a hand on his arm. _Please calm down,_ he thinks desperately. _They'll only hurt you worse._ The Doctor looks at him, sees the plea in his eyes, and drops his gaze, assuming a meek pose belied by the anger still rolling off him in waves.

The officer scowls and clears his throat. "24-601, your daughter's here to see you. The guards will escort you to the contact pad."

"My daught-" Jack digs his fingers sharply into the Doctor's elbow. Why does the Time Lord look so shocked? What else was Rose going to say?

His lover turns to him, the corners of his mouth turned down in despair, and suddenly Jack gets it. The idiot seriously thought Rose would go home. He sighs. Genius or not, sometimes the Doctor just doesn't get humans.

"Shut up and go!" he whispers urgently. This might be their way out of here. Rose is clever. She may have figured something out.

The Doctor nods grimly and turns towards the guards.

*****

There he is! Through the bars of the iron gate, Rose can see the Doctor approach the corralled area she's waiting in – ten feet by twelve, surrounded by a high concrete wall and cut in half by a double-barrier of barbed wire.

She wants to sob with relief. Then the guards shove him through the gate on the opposite side of the barbed wire and she sees him up close. Now she wants to sob with despair.

He looks awful. His face is drawn and smudged with dirt and dried blood, he's wearing a grimy and torn uniform that hangs off him like a pillow case, and he's lost weight.

One of the guards, a middle-aged, overweight man with teal hair, climbs a stand that allows him to oversee both halves of the corral with ease. It reminds Rose of an umpire's seat at Wimbledon. He's holding something that looks like a whip, but has an electrical glow to it. The other guard, younger and very tall, stands outside the door, hefting a laser rifle.

"You may speak to the prisoner now. Five minutes," the guard on the chair snaps at Rose.

She quickly puts her knuckles together in the hand gesture the locals would expect from a daughter. "How are you, Father?" She puts subtle emphasis on the final word.

The Doctor gives her a slight nod that shows he understands their roles here, but his eyes are cold. Isn't he happy to see her?

"What are you doing here?" he asks, answering her unasked question. "Why aren't you home with your mother?" There's accusation in his eyes, and disappointment.

What? Did he seriously think she would use the emergency program and just leave them here to rot? Plonker. If she weren't so scared for him, she'd be furious.

She decides his question isn't worth an answer. "How are you?" she repeats. Then, quieter, "How's Jack?"

"Your father's bedwarmer is none of your concern. You will not ask about him again." The guards voice cuts across the yard like a bullet.

Rose flinches and nods, never taking her eyes of the Doctor.

"All right. We're _both_ all right," the Doctor says in a lie so obvious Rose doesn't think he's even trying.

An electric sizzling sound, a blue streak of light flashing on the other side of the fence, and the Doctor falls to his knees with a cry of pain.

"Doc- Father!" Rose yells, jumping towards him. But the barrier keeps her well out of arm's reach.

"You will _not_ speak of your fillhole to your daughter! Haven't you corrupted the poor girl enough?" Another electric streak, another cry from the Doctor. "If either one of you mentions that little piece of filth again, you will not be allowed further visitation at all!"

Rose sees a flicker in the Doctor's eyes. He's going to do it. Say something about Jack and get her thrown out permanently, in an attempt to force her to go home.

"I need money!" she blurts out before he can. The Doctor looks at her, surprised. "If I had money, I could help… Mother." _Please understand. Understand that I have a plan. And trust me._

The Doctor's still looking at her, considering. She looks him straight in the eyes. _You only take the best, remember?_

He takes a deep breath, nods. "Do you have… my account card?" He rubs the knuckle of his left index finger with his right in a way that won't look like much to the guards, but clearly mimics setting the sonic screwdriver.

Rose nods. "I have the card, but I don't know the number." She flicks a gaze at the guard. He looks bored now. This is probably the kind of conversation he has to supervise all the time.

"It's seven, three, four, C," the Doctor says slowly and clearly, looking at her intently.

The guard frowns, and the Doctor quickly presses on, "Er – seven, three, four, three. Not _C_. No letters in account numbers."

But there are in screwdriver settings. Rose inclines her head.

"Be careful." The Doctors eyes are pleading now. "Think of your mother."

Rose nods. "I will."

"Time's up," the guard declares, climbing down from his stand. "Please exit to your right, Miss. You can see your father again next Templeday." His voice drops, becomes almost avuncular. "Though, Miss, no one's going to blame you if you renounce your loyalty to this… criminal." Clearly not what he meant to say. "You have to think of your future, Miss. Even with a pretty face like yours you'll be hard-pressed to find a husband with that dragging you down."

He's lucky he's on the other side of the barbed wire. Because Rose is eager to smack the brute, electric whip or not. Instead, she presses her lips together and nods. "Thank you for your concern."

His smile becomes pitying. "Ah, family loyalty. An admirable trait." Without the slightest waver to his smile, he kicks the Doctor hard in the back of the knee, then shoves him as he tries to stay upright. "Until degenerates like you pollute it."

Rose opens her mouth to protest but the Doctor quells her with a gesture.

The guard snarls. "You dishonored yourself, your wife – ex-wife now – and this girl, all to get your dick coated in a pretty boy's shit. Was it worth it?"

The Doctor looks up at him, grinning ferally. "Think Jack is pretty, eh?"

The guard's face contorts in a mask of rage; the little door to Rose's right opens and two young guards appear. As they drag her out of the enclosure against her protests, she hears the electric crackle of the whip and a hissed, "You will be very, very sorry you said that, alien."

The door bangs shut behind her and she's dragged through a corridor and unceremoniously deposited on the street. She thinks she can hear distant screams of pain, but can't be certain over her own sobs.

"I'll get you out, Doctor. Both of you." She starts towards the TARDIS to get the screwdriver – she hadn't dared take it along for fear she'd be searched.

There's a cashpoint not that far from where they're parked. Torrif and his crew will be paid tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Canaan and Wendymr for betaing.

The Doctor groans as the guards toss him into the barracks — more like a barn, really — assigned to their unit. Before he can even attempt to get up, Jack's by his side.

"Shh, don't move." Hands start patting him up and down — gentle, but still agonizing.

"'S all right." He lifts his head and blinks at Jack through the eye he can still open.

"Yeah, right." Jack gently cups his face in his hands. "Nothing wrong with you, eh?"

"Nothing broken. No serious bleeding. Just bruises, cuts, burns — all surface stuff." His voice still obeys him surprisingly well. Just a little hoarse from when the guards wrapped a whip around his throat and pulled tight.

Jack nods. He looks around at the others, who are mostly ignoring them, except for some disdainful glances. "Help me get him to his bunk." Clipped tone, neither ordering nor pleading.

"Not touching that. I do know where it's been!" Kibir gloats. The others laugh, but a few of them look uncomfortable.

"Come on. We can't just leave him here in the middle of the floor." Jack's voice sounds entirely reasonable, but the Doctor can see the veins in his neck are swelling. Still no one steps forward, but a few are shifting their weight from foot to foot, glancing nervously at Kibir.

"Jack, I can manage…" No point getting the lad into a confrontation with the others on his behalf.

"Don't you move!" He looks at the others, now openly pleading. "Please. You know I'd do it for any of you. Even you, Kibir."

That seems to get through. A few prisoners get up, step towards them. But just then an officer and four guards enter the barracks and everyone stands at attention — everyone except the Doctor, who can't, and Jack, who remains kneeling next to him, bedding his head in his lap.

"Attention, Unit 16L-7! New orders!" one of the guards — the very one who was in charge of supervising his visit with Rose, unless his blurry vision is deceiving him — barks.

Everyone looks at the officer, but the elderly major doesn't speak. Instead, he stares at Jack and the Doctor pointedly.

"Prisoner 24-601 can't get up, sir," Jack explains in his clipped military tone.

"What happened to this man?" the officer asks.

Before Jack can answer, the middle-aged guard replies. "Sir, the prisoner was disciplined for insolence."

Well, that's pretty much true. The Doctor puts a hand on Jack's knee to keep him from protesting.

The officer nods. "No reason to have him cluttering up the floor. You, you, you, and you!" He points at Jack, Kibir, and two young men with 33s on their chest — in prison for debt. "Carry him to his bunk. And be careful not to break anything. We'll need all your labor soon."

Jack supports the Doctor's head and shoulders. Kibir takes his legs, wrinkling his nose as if against a bad smell. The other two take one arm each, supporting the hips. The Doctor groans. Every bit of his skin is on fire. He can tell the young guys are actually trying to be careful, and so's Jack, of course, but Kibir is digging his nails into the backs of the Doctors knees. It takes all his willpower to keep from screaming, but he won't give him the satisfaction.

Once they put him down, Jack covers him with the threadbare blanket and sits on the edge of the bunk. It's so narrow that their hips are pressed against each other, but even though it hurts, it's comforting.

The officer clears his throat and all eyes turn to him. The Doctor can feel Jack's muscles tense, but he doesn't get up. The officer ignores him.

"You will have two more days at base. During that time, you will prepare your equipment for your new assignment. You will ship out on Marketday and remain on work detail for ten days, or until you fulfill your quota." He looks at the Doctor. "So rest. The quota's based on a full unit. Anyone who can't work fully will mean you're stuck there longer."

He turns and leaves, followed by the guards.

"Wait," the Doctor rasps out. "Where are you sending us?"

The officer strides on, but one of the younger guards turns around. "The mines. You'll like it. Lots of poking around in dark, dirty holes." He laughs and hurries after his comrades.

Some of the others are smirking, but most look worried. "The mines are bad business," an old man with yellowing hair says, shaking his head. "Long as they have the likes of us to dig, they don't bother with safety features. We ain't all gonna make it back."

Kibir snorts. "Well, some of us would be no great loss."

The Doctor rolls his eyes at Jack. This tosser's not worth arguing with.

Kibir seems disappointed when they don't react. He turns abruptly. "Anyway. Let's get to the equipment hut and get our gear. That hack said we need to prepare it. Probably all junked, and we'll need to fix it up or we'll never make that quota."

Everyone gets up and moves to follow him. The Doctor sees Jack hesitate. He won't want to leave him like this, of course.

"Go," he rasps tiredly. "I'll be fine for a bit."

"But…"

"We need that gear. D'you want to crawl around in an unsecured mine without equipment?"

Jack nods grimly and begins to get up when a hand lands on his shoulder.

"Stay with him." It's 33-572, one of the young debtors who helped carry him to his bunk. "I'll pick you up extra."

"Yeah, me too. Ain't no trouble." That's 33-571, who also helped earlier.

So there is a bit of decency left in this world after all. Even if they both seem faintly disgusted looking at him and Jack.

"Thanks." Jack smiles at them — a friendly but distant smile. Good move. With the overall homophobia here, it'd be only too easy for those blokes to get the wrong end of the stick.

They nod brusquely and follow the rest of their unit outside.

The Doctor sighs and lies back. He told Jack the truth. The wounds are all just superficial, and he heals quickly. If he gets some rest today, he'll be able to start working on his equipment tomorrow, so Jack won't have to do all the work for both of them. He closes his eyes. Will be hard to get any proper sleep while his body feels like it got on the wrong side of a horde of stampeding rhinos.

He's starting to doze off when he feels Jack fumbling with his flies, opening the buttons. Tender fingers cradle his cock, and then it's surrounded by warm moisture.

He cracks his good eye open. "What are you doing?"

Jack raises an eyebrow. His tongue starts describing letters on the hardening flesh of the Doctors cock. _B — L — O…_

"Well, yeah, I know th-" The W makes him gasp for air and it takes him a second to recover his thought. "Here? Now?" It's almost a squeak.

Jack smiles and starts sucking gently.

"It's too dangerous! If they come back…"

The sucking intensifies, and Jack cradles the Doctor's scrotum in his left hand and gently teases his balls with his right.

The Doctor groans and closes his eyes. The first endorphins are hitting his bloodstream, dulling the pain.

Jack knows what he's doing. He's an expert at pushing just the right buttons to make sure this won't take long, but still leave the Doctor floating high above the pain and exhaustion on a cloud of bliss. And he's smart enough to understand the risks and not dawdle.

The Doctor takes a deep breath and relaxes into Jack's tender ministrations. When orgasm carries him off on a wave of endorphins, he falls asleep before his cock has finished its spasms.

*****

As soon as Rose enters the bar, Luo calls out a greeting and waves her over. Everyone in the room clears a way, a few smile at her, and no one even tries to bother her. Being a friend of Luo's is status enough.

She sits and slides a green crystal cube across the bar. " _Loshkeer_ for me, and keep the change." Luo's eyebrows shoot up, but he pockets the cube and mixes her drink without comment. Rose grins. This would be enough to get everyone in the room completely sloshed, but she needs a favor. "Can you get a message to Torrif?"

Luo nods. "You want to meet him?"

"Yeah."

He slides a neon pink key card across the bar. "Go upstairs, third room on your right. They'll meet you there, talk in private. I'll have drinks and food brought up."

"Ta." She takes the card and her _loshkeer_ and heads for the staircase just to the right of the bar. For a moment, she's startled as she recognizes Jando, the alien who tried to harass her the other night. But he just glances in Luo's direction, curses and turns his back, letting her pass.

Relieved, she slips up the stairs and into the room. It's plain, but nice, with several comfortable chairs grouped around a heavy wooden table, a bookshelf in a corner and yellow curtains in front of the window.

Rose examines the spines. Nothing she's ever heard of. She finally picks a book on the history of Itawamba and sits in the chair closest to the window. As she opens the book, there's a knock.

She sits up straight. "Come in."

It's a servant girl with a tray full of bottles, glasses, and little bowls of various snacks. "Greetings, miss." She puts the tray down on the table and begins arranging the drinks and food neatly. "Luo says to tell you they'll be here in half an hour."

Rose slides a small yellow cube across the table. "Thank you. What's your name?"

"Mine, miss?" The girl seems surprised, but not too surprised to quickly pocket the money. "Tria, miss."

"I'm Rose." She smiles. "Can I ask you a question, Tria?"

"Of course, Miss Rose."

"What do you think of people who break the 24th law?"

"Fillers?" Tria slaps her hand over her mouth. "Oh, pardon me, miss, I meant to say… sexual deviants?"

Rose frowns. "If that's how you want to put it."

Tria is blushing a dark teal. "Miss, I… they're so… I'd never…" She forms loose fists and presses her knuckles together. "I have to get back to work. Enjoy your meal, miss." She's gone before Rose can get another word out.

*****

The Doctor wakes up. For a moment, he's confused — why is Jack's bed so hard? His whole body's sore. Then the smell of stale sweat on unwashed bodies brings back the memories, and he bites back a groan.

He silently takes inventory. All the surface wounds have started to heal, thick scabs covering most of his back and legs. In some place his clothes are stuck to them. Removing them will hurt like hell. And his bruises must have started turning colors by now.

The "discipline techniques" of the guards have done exactly what they're intended to. He'll be able to work, but it will be agonizing.

He slowly opens his eyes. The glare of the prison floodlights falls in through the leaky roof of the barracks, its vaulted ceiling eerily illuminated. He can make out the sleeping forms of the other men. Jack's bunk is right next to his, close enough to touch. The one advantage of cramped quarters.

The Doctor wonders what Rose is doing right now. He hopes she's asleep in the TARDIS, safe and sound, but he wouldn't bet on it. Clearly, she has some sort of plan, and right now might be off doing stars know what with stars know whom. And him stuck in here, unable to keep her safe. Worse — she's trying to save him, and that's the very reason she's in danger.

He briefly considers telling the guards that she's not his daughter. Maybe if she's not allowed to visit them anymore, she'll go home. Everything would be easier to bear if he didn't have to worry about her, too.

But a second later he calls himself an idiot. He can't tell them. Of course not. He'd be exposing Rose as a liar, and who knows what the punishment for deceiving the authorities is. He'll just have to hope she'll be careful.

He sighs, and instantly Jack's eyes snap open and focus on him. "Are you okay?"

He shrugs. "As expected."

Jack nods. "How's Rose?" Even at a whisper, the anxiety in his voice is clear.

"Seemed fine. Think she's got some sort of — " He drops his voice to nothing and mouths, "Plan."

Jack grins. "Of course she does. Clever Rose."

The Doctor frowns.

"What?"

"Thought she'd be home. Back with Jackie. She knows how to work the emergency program."

Jack sounds incredulous, even reproachful. "Did you really think she'd just leave us here to rot? _Rose Tyler_?"

"I want her safe!"

That was too loud. Some of the men near them start to stir and mumble. The Doctor and Jack freeze, waiting until they still and their breathing deepens.

There's no humor in Jack's voice now. "I want her safe too. I can't stand the thought of something happening to her." He puts a hand on the Doctor's arm. "And she feels the same way about us."

The Doctor nods grimly.

"Hey." Jack squeezes his arm gently. "Have some faith in our Rose. She's fantastic."

He smiles, guiding Jack's hand to his lips and kissing it gently. "Yeah, she is."

Jack shifts up on his bunk. The muscles in his hand tighten and the Doctor hears him hiss in pain.

"What's wrong?"

Jack shakes his head. "Nothing. Just cramped from the bed." His voice is tight and there are beads of sweat on his forehead.

The Doctor reaches out and turns Jack's face into a beam of blueish light. His skin is pale and feels cold and clammy. He's avoiding the Doctor's eyes.

"Jack." The one syllable carries warning, concern and tenderness.

Jack sighs. "Promise you'll blame me."

"What?"

"You're going to want to blame yourself. But don't."

"Tell me. Right now." He tightens his hand on Jack's chin and starts rubbing small circles along his cheekbone with his thumb.

Jack leans into the touch. "Earlier, when I was trying to make you feel better…"

The blowjob that's allowed him over four hours of peaceful sleep. "Yeah?"

"I guess a few of the other guys saw me after all. Must have been back early. I didn't see them. Or maybe it was just because of earlier, the way I held you when you were hurt..."

His hearts turn to ice. "What did they do?"

"Well, when Kibir came back, he and a few of his cronies took me outside and…"

"And?" He has to fight not to let his hand cramp convulsively, but the last thing he wants is to hurt Jack.

Jack shrugs and grins his lopsided _no big deal_ grin. "They sort of kicked me around a little."

"How bad?" It'd be stupid of them to injure Jack when they need him to fill their quota, but then they're not exactly burdened with an overabundance of brains, and hate and disgust cloud whatever better judgment they may have.

"Ah, you know me, I can t-"

"Jack!" Too loud. They both have to wait for the others to stop stirring again.

Jack sighs. "They may have broken my ankle."

"Bugger." He pushes himself upright, ignoring the burning pain that makes each movement feel like his skin is on fire, and scoots down to the end of the bunk. Unasked, Jack extends his right foot. The Doctor carefully feels both sides and gently moves the foot in circles. He can see Jack biting the insides of his cheek to keep quiet.

The Doctor scoots back up and leans over for a kiss. Jack looks surprised when he deepens it, but responds eagerly. The Doctor teases the sensitive spots in Jack's mouth and gently licks the small bite wounds Jack just gave himself, and soon his lover's pupils dilate and his muscles start to relax.

The Doctor breaks the kiss. "It's not broken."

"No?"

"Just bruised and badly sprained. Still, tell the guards tomorrow, have them take you to medical. You don't want to limp around a mine on this."

Jack shakes his head. "Not an option."

"Lad-"

"No!" Jack's voice is quiet but hard with determination. "First off, I'm not staying in medical while you're sent to some god-forsaken shit-hole of a mine. Second, prisoners who get released from medical are just put into whatever unit has an opening. If we let them separate us, we might never even see each other again."

Damn. He didn't know that. But he's sure Jack is right — the lad has an uncanny talent for picking up on details like this.

"Right then. Stay off it as much as possible tomorrow. The day after, you'll probably just have to walk to the train. I can hold you up once we're in it. An' I'm guessing in the mine it'll mostly be crawling anyway. They don't strike me as the types to construct big comfortable mineshafts a man can stand up in." As he speaks, he starts tearing strips of his blanket and winding them tightly around Jack's ankle. Then he rolls up what's left of the blanket and places it underneath. "There. Now try to get some rest."

Jack looks at him beseechingly. "You promised you wouldn't blame yourself."

"No, I didn't." He neatly ignored that question. He gently strokes Jack's chest and feels him arch into the touch. "But don't worry." His eyes seek Kibir's sleeping form, stretched out face-down on a bunk near the door. "I'm not blaming either of us."

*****

"Well then, that seems to be in order, Rose." Torrif grins as his second-in command — a scaly blue alien whose name Rose can't even begin to pronounce — pockets the money. "And the same amount upon success. Plus expenses."

Rose nods impatiently, looking around the table at the four men and one woman Torrif brought with him. "So, how're we going to do it?"

"Well, me 'n my crew have been tossing around a few ideas…" Torrif rubs the back of his head.

"What? You mean you don't know?" Rose feels bile rising in her throat. "I thought you'd done this before!"

The mercenaries laugh. But then the blue one elbows Torrif in the ribs with two of his four arms. "I think she's serious."

"Oh." Torrif squints at her in surprise. "No one's done it before, Rose."

Rose stares.

"The Itawamba High Security Penitentiary has a perfect record. No one's ever escaped."

 _Don't show weakness. Never show weakness with anyone you don't trust 150%._ Jack's voice rings in her ears as she swallows down hysterical tears. "But no one's ever hired you for the job before, right?"

The mercenaries exchange grins. Torrif nods. "There is that. As I said, we have a few ideas." He gestures to Garin, a short, thin Itawambo whom he introduced as his chief technician earlier on.

Garin takes out a small data pad and starts flicking back and forth through different maps and schematics. "Well, violence is right out. That place is a fortress. And not far from the army base. Even if we somehow managed to shoot our way in without being blown to smithereens, we'd be surrounded and turned into something closely resembling soup before we'd ever make it out."

Rose nods. The Doctor's taught her not to be afraid to take risks, but also that some risks are just stupidity. And of course he doesn't approve of violence, anyway.

"Bribery is tricky. Too many guards, too many checks and balances. Only takes one whistle-blower and we're buggered."

That's true. She'd pretty much come to the same conclusion when she saw how many bribes it took just to get the blokes' stuff back.

"Sneaking someone in to sneak them out might be workable. Not sure how yet, but it's an area we excel in." Garin winks at her.

She frowns. "How long would it take to come up with something?"

"Don't know. That's currently plan beta."

"What's alpha?"

"Well, we have some contacts, sources. Can sometimes get our hand on some pretty sophisticated technology." Garin grins smugly. "We're currently trying to procure a personal teleporter."

Rose's heart stops. Can it really be that simple. "I… I have a vortex manipulator. Time Agency issue."

Garin's jaw drops. He stares from her to Torrif, who's setting down his glass quite a bit harder than necessary. "And you didn't think it might have been helpful to mention that? In fact, why hire us? Just go in and grab the blokes."

Rose licks her lips. "I don't know how to work it. It's not mine. It belongs to Jack."

"Wouldn't have worked, anyway, Captain," Garin says. "Not quite that simple."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Telloo, the only woman in the crew, snarls. She's tall and bulky and covered in weapons of all kinds. Something tells Rose she's not the public relations officer.

"The prefects are not idiots," Garin bristles. "Well, only to a degree. They scramble transmissions in and out of the prison. Audio, video — never mind teleport."

Rose slumps in her chair. "But you said-"

"Dontcha worry, Miss Rose. Our Garin here's a bit of a genius." Torrif smiles at the younger man fondly.

Garin grins. "What we need to do is interrupt the interrupters. We don't need long, only a minute or so."

"And you can do that?" Rose feels hope rising in her chest at his answering smile.

"Not quite yet. But I'll get there."

"Well," Torrif says. "Looks like we have a plan to work towards now. And about two weeks till time T."

"Two weeks?" Rose sputters. "We can't leave them in there that long!"

The second-in-command speaks up. "We'll have to. Our contact in the prefecture found out that their unit's going to the mines in two days. Sorry, thought you knew."

"The mines?" Rose's memory flashes back to some essay by Dickens about miners' work she once had to read for English class. She swallows. What if the Doctor and Jack don't come back?

"Never fear, miss," Torrif says. "I'm sure your friends are… tough."

Telloo snorts; Torrif quietens her with a glare. "Anyway, ain't nothing we can do till they're back here. Civilians can't even get near the mines without attracting attention."

Garin nods apologetically. "We have no maps, no blueprints, nothing. Still, two weeks sounds just about right to prepare, maybe do a few test runs…"

Rose nods. "Right. Let's do this." She asked the Doctor to have faith in her. Now she'll just have to have faith in them. They'll survive. They'll come back. And once they do, she'll get them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's interested, [this is the Dickens text Rose is thinking of](http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/A_Coal_Miner%27s_Evidence). It's actually an interview, not an essay, but English class was a long time ago for her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Canaan and Wendymr for betaing.

The suns are beating down mercilessly as the prisoners stumble out of the carriage and form two raggedy lines. The Doctor keeps a worried eye on Jack. The lad spent the six hours on the train clinging to him to stay upright. His ankle can only take weight for brief moments.

Jack's trying to stand by balancing his weight on his left foot, his right resting loosely on the sand. He sways, and the Doctor grabs his elbow to steady him.

“Attention!” A searing burn as one of the guards cracks his whip across the Doctor's back. Jack suddenly stiffens and almost falls; the tip caught the back of his knee.

With an effort, the Doctor keeps them both upright, then hastily lets go as soon as Jack seems steady.

A short, fat man emerges from a low building. The Doctor notes that it's air-conditioned and painted in bright colors. There are curtains on the windows — and hell, is that a back porch?

The Itawambo walks along their lines, inspecting them critically. One of the guards, a sergeant, hands him a data pad, and he scans it distractedly. “That's all?”

“One full unit. It's what you paid for,” the sergeant replies.

“Yeah, but some of them are in pretty shoddy condition. I need men who can do the work.” He's scanning the data more closely now. “Debtors, embezzlers, even fucking fillers! I ordered real men.”

“You've got some robbers and assaulters in the bunch. Murderers, even. B'sides, they have to stay till they fill the quota anyway. You'll get your money's worth.”

“Yeah, but the longer they stay here, the longer I have to feed 'em and you lot. And I have customers waiting for the xoristan.” He presses his thumb and forefinger to the touchpad and hands it back to the sergeant. “Fine, I'll take 'em. But if they're too slow about the job, I'm charging the food and water against the rent.”

The sergeant shrugs. “That's between you and admin. We just get 'em here and keep them in line.”

The man turns to the prisoners. “All right, you lot, listen up! I'm Director Morgim. I'm in charge of this mine.” He pulls a rectangular device from his pocket and hits a button. A projection flickers into being. It shows three-dimensional schematics that slowly rotate around a vertical axis.

“The mine is built in a fishbone pattern. The central tunnel's called the 'core.'” He adjusts a setting and the schematics change — the core is now highlighted in cyan. It's deep underground, and can only be reached through a steep, almost vertical shaft. There must be a lift to get men up and down. Heavily guarded, the Doctor's sure.

“That's where the collection station is, and food and water dispensaries. Once you go inside the mine, that's as far out as you'll get again until your quota is filled.”

“We have to stay down all the time?” Jack whispers through clenched teeth. The Doctor shrugs. Not surprising, really. Not like anyone's worried about their quality of life.

Director Morgim continues. “You'll unearth the xoristan from these shafts — we call 'em 'spokes.'” He adjust the device, and about two dozen thin tunnels turn cyan. If the projection is to scale, they're no more than four feet in diameter, but hundreds of yards long. “You want to keep moving forwards, but not sideways. An' keep them nicely vaulted.” A sketch demonstrating the shape pops up. “Unless you want the whole fucking mountain to collapse on you. ”

The Doctor hears Jack grind his teeth. He looks at him sideways. Jack's face is drawn and his fists are clenched. The Doctor glances around, but there are too many guards nearby to reach out to the lad.

“You'll be two men to a shaft. One at the pickaxe, the other to fill and push the dog.” Little wagons blink into existence and are shown moving from the ends of the spokes toward the core. “I don't care if you want one job each or if you take turns. All I'm interested in — “ a chain of larger wagons blinks into existence in the core “ — are results. The ore each unit brings in will be weighed, and at the end of the day you get food and water proportionally to how much you delivered.” He laughs dryly. “Then we close the lids.”

Two rows of small doors are shown cutting off each spike from the core. The Doctor hears Jack heave a sigh that is almost a whimper.

“And that's it until the next shift starts.” He pulls himself up to his full height. “Any questions?”

The Doctor raises his hand. Director Morgim blinks. The sergeant looks murderous. “Yes?” the director asks, sounding perplexed more than angry.

“Are the spikes ventilated an' lit?”

“Ventilated, of course. Won't do me much good if you die overnight, will it? Lit, yes, but only at the end where you'll work, and only during the shifts.”

“We don't get light at night?” It's only the presence of two guards standing threateningly close to him and Jack that makes him keep the outrage out of his voice. Mostly.

Director Morgim laughs, rubbing his stomach. He's apparently decided to find the Doctor's questions droll. “Well, you're supposed to rest, aren't you? What are you going to demand next, bathrooms?”

Well, a bit of sanitation would be nice, yes. At least their mining equipment includes buckets.

With these working conditions, it's no wonder that units stay in the mines for only about two weeks. No one'd last here for long. They probably lose enough people as it is.

The sergeant cracks his whip. “All right then, pick up your gear from the freight wagon, form teams of two, and file into the lifts in an orderly manner. Don't think we'll hesitate to beat you bloody — and _then_ make you work a full day.” Morgim cackles at that.

As he turns towards the freight wagon, the Doctor sees a look of utter despair on Jack's face. He tries to catch his gaze, but the lad turns away, and the faraway look in his eyes is almost... broken.

*****

Rose still spends most of her evenings at Luo's bar. She has nowhere else to be, and sitting around in the TARDIS by herself is unspeakably depressing.

She's just finishing her first _loshkeer_ and wondering whether to order a second or stick to water when Tria approaches her. “Miss Rose, there's someone out the back who wants to talk to you.”

Luo looks up sharply. “Who is it?” he asks before Rose can.

“That woman who works for Torrif. The scary one.”

“Telloo?” Luo looks at Rose. “Unpleasant, but loyal to a fault. Probably a message.” He nods in the direction of the kitchen.

Rose nods. Her heart beats faster. Has Garin found a solution? Do they want her to come over with the Vortex manipulator — which she flat-out refused to let them have without her there — for a test run? Is that why Telloo is meeting her in the dark, cluttered alley behind the bar rather than coming inside?

Telloo looks annoyed — though as far as Rose has seen, she always does. “Hi.” She smiles. “News?”

Telloo snorts. “Nah. Just came here so we could braid each other's hair and do our make-up,” she drawls, looking Rose up and down.

Rose sighs and leans against the kitchen door. “What is it?”

“Garin says he figured out a way to interrupt the force field.”

Even Telloo's scowl can't keep Rose from grinning. “That's fantastic.”

“Got a problem, though.”

“Oh?”

“Needs a rare part. A — “ She peers at her hand. Rose can just make out smudged black ink on her palm. “A sine-cyclic phase inverter.” She spits. “Only one trader within three systems who sells those.”

“You need more money? Is that it?” Rose pads her pockets. She's not carrying much, but she can go to the cashpoint right now if necessary.

“Nope. You'll need it, though.”

“What?”

Telloo smirks. “Guy who sells them had a run-in with Torrif a few circles back. We did a job for him, he refused to pay, gave flimsy excuses, words were exchanged, teeth punched out... No way is he going to do business with our crew again.”

Rose nods. So she'll have to go meet this trader, negotiate for the part — easy since she doesn't care how much she spends — and bring it to Garin. Not a problem. At least not one she can't deal with. “Where do I find him?”

“Right now, probably at the bar.” She jerks her head towards the door Rose is leaning against. “That's why we're out here. He can't see me with you.”

“What, right here?” She'd expected some shady hide-out in the bad part of town. Which Luo's bar is, of course, but at least it's one she's familiar with. An unexpected stroke of luck. “Who is he?”

“Same species as Torrif. Name of Jando.”

Damn. Rose closes her eyes. Not so lucky after all. She briefly wonders if she should let Garin into the TARDIS, have him check if they have one of those parts lying around. But no. For all the Torrif's people work for her at the moment, they are still mercenaries, and she only trusts them to a degree. Besides, the Doctor has tons of strange gizmos all over the place. She wouldn't know where to start looking. Jando seems to be their only option. “I've had a bit of a... run-in with him myself. Not sure he'll trade with me.”

“Well, you better try. 'Cause he sure as hell ain't trading with us, and from how Garin tells it, it's that part or nothing."

Rose nods. Sweet-talking, paying more, intimidation... She travels with an ex-conman and a Time Lord, she knows hundreds of ways to get people to do things they don't want to. And that's before she adds in the London streetsmarts. “What's the name of the part again?”

Telloo peers at her hand and tells her. Rose has her repeat it twice to make sure she'll get it right. Then she turns, takes a deep breath, opens the top button of her blouse, and heads for the bar.

*****

Jack pushes the little cart along the spike in complete darkness. He tried the pick-ax first, but since the tunnels are too low to get up, he'd need to brace his feet to swing that effectively, and his sprained ankle can't take the strain.

So he pushes the cart full of ore, slowly, yard by yard, crawling behind it on hands and knees. Push, left hand forward, right hand, left knee, right knee, dragging the throbbing ankle. It's agony, but at least the pain keeps him focused in the here and now and doesn't let him think about the tons of rock pressing down on these tunnels.

Push, left hand, right hand, left knee, right knee, push, repeat. He can make out the first gleam of the flickering lamps of the core now.

Push, left, right, left, right, push. The clanging of tools and machinery makes the core seem nearer than he knows it to be. They also remind him of — but no. He can't think about that now.

Push, left, right, left, right, push. Once he reaches the core, his cart will be weighed and emptied into the bigger train by a crane. Thank god he doesn't have to shovel the ore. He does at the other end, but there he can do it sitting down, and the Doctor helps him if necessary. It's slow going, but he's glad for the excuse to stay near his lover — and the lamp — a bit longer. He just hopes he's not slowing them down too much — their food and water depend on it.

Push, left, right, left, right, push. Has it really only been a few hours? And how is he supposed to make it through this for days? With the memories he's desperate to suppress looming larger and larger in his mind, he doesn't know if he can keep despair at bay.

Push, left, right, left, right, push. The light is closer now, but it does nothing to dispel the darkness in Jack's mind. He feels his self-control slipping and shifts some weight to his right ankle to snap out of it. It only works for a second.

Push, left, right, left, right, push. He won't make it. He can't. He'll hang on for as long as possible for the Doctor's sake, but in the end this mine is going to kill him. He'll never see the light of day again.

Push, left, right, left, right, push — it'll all end here, in darkness, like he always feared it would.

*****

Rose goes to Luo first. “Listen... I need to deal with Jando.” She gestures to the alien who's tossing back the latest in what appears to be a long string of drinks.

“What?” Luo looks at her as if she'd just announced her intention to marry a wild boar.

She briefly explains the situation. Luo curses and nods.

“Start by buying him a drink. Don't show weakness, but let him feel he's in charge. I'll keep an eye on you.”

Rose nods. She swallows nervously, but uses her best Jack Harkness swagger to approach the trader. “Hello there.”

He eyes her warily. She slides into the seat next to him.

“Can I buy you a drink?'”

For a moment, Jando seems about to ask why, but then he just nods. Free booze is free booze,

“Hey, Luo, get us two of Jando's usual.”

Luo nods and pours a finger-wide of a dark green liquid into two small glasses.

“And make it double,” Rose adds, throwing Jando a winning grin. _Act like Jack. Jack could handle this. Used to do it every day._

Luo frowns, but adds another finger-wide of the green stuff to each glass before pushing them over to them.

Rose hands one to Jando and lifts her own. “To business!”

“Business? That what this is about?”

“Drinking, then talking.” She downs the glass, and Jando follows suit.

Parsley. That's what it tastes like. Parsley and listerine. She digs her fingernails into her thigh to keep from shuddering in disgust. Strangely, though, the drink doesn't seem to contain much alcohol. She only feels the barest hint of warmth in her stomach.

Jando has his eyes closed, slowly swishing the drink around his mouth. “Aw, that's the stuff.” He slams down the glass and looks at Rose. “Business?”

Rose takes a breath and focuses. She can't stumble over the name or she'll look like an amateur. “I need a sine-cyclic phase inverter.”

Jando nods slowly. “Got a few in stock. Snissian workmanship. Great quality. Older models, though. Newest is an SY-600.”

Rose pretends to think it over. “That should do.” She has no idea if it will, but it's not like she has a choice. “How much?”

“Five thousand gilling.” There's a greedy twinkle in his eyes.

Rose almost nods — not like the money matters to her — but then she remembers Jack's lessons, patiently taught to her on many alien markets and bazaars. _You always haggle. Always. Even if you don't care what you spend. They'll lose all respect if you don't. And the first offer is always ridiculous._

She laughs. “No, seriously, how much?”

Jando frowns. “Four-nine.”

 _Make your own opening bid as far below the real value as theirs is above it — that way, you can meet in the middle._ Too bad she has no idea what the damn gadget is worth. But odds are Jando's gouging her. “Three thousand.”

Jando sputters. “Three thousand? Are you insane?”

 _Complain about the flaws of the product._ “It's an SY-600, for god's sake!” Not that she's sure what that means. “What do you expect?”

“Four-five! Can't go any lower than that or I won't make a profit.”

 _They always say that. It means “My profit might be less than 200%.”_ “It's not worth more than three-three.”

“Four-three, and I'm losing money on this!”

 _A bit of flattery is part of the game._ ”C'mon, you're too clever a bloke to have bought it that high. Three-five.”

Jando growls. “Fine. Four thousand. Definitely my last word.”

 _It never is._ “Three-eight, and we both know I'm overpaying.” _Keep them lubricated._ She waves at Luo for two more glasses of the parsley-tasting stuff. “Drink on it?”

Jando eyes her, then the generously filled glass Luo places in front of him. “All right. Three-eight.”

Rose nods and reaches for her glass, but Jando puts a hand on her wrist to stop her. “And a dance.”

“What?”

“Didn't want to dance with me that night. Gonna dance with me now or there's no deal.”

 _There's a certain look people get in their eyes when there's a point they won't budge on. Anything else, you can push, but if you see that look, you have to take it or leave it._

Ah. So that's what that looks like.

Well, leaving it is not an option. So Rose nods. “One dance. Here.”

Jando's face turns unbearably smug. “Luo, put on some music. Something nice and slow.”

Luo shoots her a glance. She nods. Jando gets up and extends a hand to her with a flourish. She forces a smile, takes it, and follows him out to the free space near a drafty window — the closest the bar has to a dance floor. This time, it's the Doctor's voice she hears in her mind. _If you have to deal with slime trying to intimidate you, grin and be pleasant. Confuses the hell out of them._

So she smiles as Jando puts one hand on her hip and holds the other out to her, takes it gently and places her free hand on his shoulder. She's not sure of the steps, but apparently he isn't either, so they just sway back and forth, turning occasionally.

On the second verse, Jando slides his hand downwards, cups her arse, and squeezes.

 _Never let them see they're bothering you._ Both blokes have told her that so often she isn't even sure whose voice she's hearing it in. She just twirls and “accidentally” steps on his toes. “Oops, pardon me. Not used to this rhythm.”

He grunts, but keeps his hand where it is. It's all right. It's one dance. What's a scaly paw on her arse for five minutes compared to what the blokes are going through?

When the music ends, they return to the bar. Rose smiles at Luo and orders _loshkeer_. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jando look dissatisfied. He probably hoped to discomfit her.

“I'll bring the part in tomorrow,” he says, “but you're not getting it until I have my money. Cash.”

 _Never trust a bloke who doesn't respect you._ That was Jackie Tyler's voice. “I'm not paying before I've had a chance to look the part over in my lab.” No need for him to know that there are other people involved.

Jando grunts and looks at Luo. “You willing to do escrow?”

“Yeah,” Luo nods. “Ten percent.”

“Means you have to pay me ten percent more. Not paying for your mistrust.”

“I'll pay five more. We'll each cover half.”

Jando nods reluctantly. “I bring in the part, you give Luo the cash. You have twelve hours to bring the part back. If you don't, he gives me the money.”

Rose nods. “Fine by me. Can you be in at five tomorrow?” That's when the bar opens.

“Be here at six. Got other business to attend to, you know?”

“Six it is. Luo, another round of the green stuff. And get one for yourself.”

They lift their glasses. “To our deal,” Rose says; the men echo her and down their drinks.

*****

As the “lid” slides into place, cutting their tunnel off from the core for the night, the Doctor watches Jack's face in the narrowing beam of light. His eyes are riveted on the small metal door, completely ignoring his share of the food and water the Doctor is holding out to him.

Given how hungry the Doctor feels himself, that's a bad sign. Jack's human body must be even more desperate for sustenance.

The rations here are actually not bad, compared to the prison. There's a good amount of _takré_ , the fortified bread everyone seems to use as cheap food here, but there are also several protein patties, and six liter-bottles of water. If they can manage to up their production just a little, they should be able to make it through ten days.

The last stripe of light blinks out. They are in total darkness now. Even the Doctor's superior night vision can't make out the tiniest speck of light. He hears Jack sigh, and pushes the food into his hands. “Eat, lad.”

Jack shifts. “Y'know, I'm not all that hungry, why don't you-”

“Eat!”

Jack finally takes the bread and two of the patties from him. “Yes, sir.” He sounds too tired to be playful or defiant. Chewing noises and the occasional gulp soon indicate that Jack needed this more than he thought.

“What time is it?” Jack asks suddenly.

“Local? Quarter to eleven.”

“Ah. When do you think the next shift starts?”

“Six, maybe five.”

“Oh.”

For a while, they eat in silence. The Doctor can tell that something — beyond the obvious — is bothering Jack, but isn't sure how to bring it up. Asking straight-out would only make him deny it.

So maybe if he just gets him talking... He's desperately trying to think of something to say, but lighthearted chatter has never been his forte. Rose would know what to say. He wishes she were here. Except he doesn't want her anywhere near this hellhole.

When most of the food is eaten and the rest stashed near the door where they can find it later, they sit in silence, their legs touching. The Doctor shifts occasionally — he's still bruised, and the scabs itch — but is careful not to jostle Jack's bad ankle.

After a while, Jack pulls the Doctor's feet into his lap and starts massaging them tenderly. It feels fantastic, but he knows Jack's hands are blistered from all the crawling.

“You don't have to do that, lad.”

Jack ignores him and continues. He rubs his heels first, then moves up to the arches, stroking up and down both insteps firmly with his thumbs. When he reaches the base of the Doctor' toes, he says, “So, did I ever tell you about the time I was in a cave-in?” His voice is too casual to be genuine.

The Doctor closes his eyes. “No.” He pulls his feet back and shifts position so he's sitting next to Jack, then puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close.

Jack turns his face into the crook of the Doctor's neck. “Well, it's not something I want to recall in detail right now.” But of course it's impossible not to think about it while stuck under this bloody mountain, in absolute darkness, with nothing to do.

The Doctor nods gruffly. “Right.” He gently pushes him away and starts unbuttoning Jack's shirt.

“Doctor?” Jack asks hesitantly.

“One major distraction, coming up.” He opens Jack flies and gently slides his trousers downward. “Lift up your hips.”

Jack does, and the Doctor strips them both of their clothes quickly and effectively. He doesn't have Jack's finesse, but he has his own style, which Jack generally seems to enjoy. He pulls him into his lap so they're facing each other and Jack isn't sitting with his naked arse on the cold, rough rocks, which their clothes cushion only insufficiently. Keeping his arms wrapped around him so Jack doesn't have to use his bad ankle for balance, he pulls him into a kiss.

Jack entwines his fingers behind the Doctor's head and crushes their mouths together desperately. He's biting him, even drawing blood. Jack starts grinding his hips, pressing his groin into the Doctors. “I need more,” he gasps between thrusts.

Yes, clearly. The Doctor can feel Jack's erection pressing into his stomach. His own cock is half-hard already. If Jack keeps grinding them together like this, neither of them will last long enough for “more.”

He gently pushes against Jack's hips, slides the lad backwards along his thighs until they're both humping air, too hungry and desperate to hold still.

“What do you want, Jack?” he asks him breathlessly.

“Fuck,” Jack gasps out, trying to rub their cocks together again.

The Doctors barks a laugh. “Obviously. But how do you want to do it?”

Jack hesitates. A hand gropes blindly for the Doctor's face, strokes along his cheekbone. “Are you offering to bottom?”

Yes, of course he is. He understands Jack's surprise, though. It's not something they do very often. The Doctor generally prefers topping, and Jack is fine with that.

He nods, making sure Jack can feel the movement in his cupped hand. Right now, he's offering whatever Jack wants. And the rare pleasure might excite him more than the common one.

Jack considers. “No. We don't have anything to use for lube.”

“Spit'll do me.” He's not going to take back his offer over a supply problem.

“No.” Jack sounds certain. “Spit will do _me_.” He kisses the Doctor's lips gently. “Thank you for the offer. I do appreciate it. But I have more practice with this than you do, and I like it a bit rough anyway. Let's stick with what works best.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Jack slides himself closer, rubbing their flagging erections together again. Soon they aren't flagging anymore.

The Doctor spits into his hand and prepares himself as well as possible. Jack's movements are becoming more and more urgent, and he can feel his own restraint slipping as well.

Jack braces his hands on the Doctor's shoulders and pushes himself up, listing to his left to keep most of the weight off his right ankle. It must still hurt, but he doesn't seem to care. He shifts forward to keep the pressure on his arms. Such strong arms for a human. The Doctor can't resist turning his head sideways and licking Jack's wrist.

Jack effortlessly positions himself so the Doctor's cock rests lightly against his opening. “Ready?” he asks.

He's asking him? Feeling the friction caused by just the slight movements of his cock between Jack's cheeks, the Doctor's grateful Jack didn't take him up on his offer. “Take it nice an' slow, right?” He puts his hands on Jack's hips to steady him and help support his weight.

“Yeah.” Jack starts lowering himself, and the Doctor feels him deliberately relaxing his muscles. With an effort, he holds himself still, lets Jack control the movement. He wishes he could see his lover's face, make sure the lad's not in too much pain, but in the complete darkness, sound, feel and smell are all he has to go on.

Jack's completely silent, but his movements are graceful and almost effortless, and the arousal is rolling off him in waves. Just before he sinks all the way into the Doctor's lap, he flexes his muscles in a clever way that makes the Doctor cry out and thrust his hips involuntarily. “Don't just sit there, Doc.”

With a growl, the Doctor bends forward, claiming Jack's lips in a hungry kiss. Then he slides his lips down to his neck and sucks, nibbling lightly. Among all the bruises, no one will notice the mark, but Jack will know it's there.

Jack throws his head back with a guttural sound. He braces his arms behind himself on the Doctor's legs and starts raising and lowering himself, his cock rubbing against the Doctor's abdomen. With his arms doing most of the work, he can't manage more than about an inch's worth of movement, but he more than makes up for that with the use of his internal muscles.

At first, the Doctor tries to hold still, let Jack set the pace, but his lover knows a million little ways to make him lose control, and he employs every one of them.

It's fast, hard, desperate and dirty. There's some pain, for both of them, but it's buried under the passion and the desperate need to feel each other, feel close. Feel alive.

When they both come within seconds of each other, they sag sideways. The Doctor manages to turn Jack without slipping out of him so they can lie front to back. He knows Jack gets a kick out of that, because none of his human lovers have ever been able to do it after orgasm without extreme discomfort. He wraps an arm tightly around his hips and tucks Jack's head under his chin.

“I love you,” Jack mumbles sleepily. The Doctor kisses his jaw.

“Think you can sleep now?”

He can feel Jack's head bob in a nod. “Can we stay like this?”

“You mean...?” Clearly, lack of proper prep is really not a problem for Jack.

“With you in me, yeah.”

“If you're comfortable.” Might momentarily hurt tomorrow morning, but it's worth it for a night of closeness and rest.

Jack's deep, steady breathing is all the answer he gets.  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Canaan and Wendymr for betaing.

The technical lab on Torrif's ship shudders under a loud bang and a brief rain of sparkles. Garin checks a read-out and grins broadly. “That's done it!”

Rose whoops and throws her arms around him. Finally! After six days of test runs, failed attempts and minor explosions, she was beginning to lose confidence.

“You sure?” Torrif asks, with that proud, paternal smile Rose has only ever seen him use with Garin.

“Yes, Captain. This will suppress the interrupter field for about eighty seconds.”

“Not a lot of time,” Telloo snorts. “We'd need to materialize right atop your fil... your friends.”

“Well, if that two hearts thing is true, that's easy enough,” Garin says.

“It _is_ true,” Rose says with a glare at Telloo.

The young Itawambo nods. “We can use the Vortex manipulator to scan for that, then hop straight to those coordinates, grab them and hop back.”

“Long as they're together.” Telloo pulls a dagger from its sheath and idly starts cleaning her fingernails. Rose rolls her eyes and reminds herself that she won't have to deal with her much longer.

“Well,” Torrif says, “That's why Rose is going to have another visit with her 'father' before. Let him know to stick close to Jack.” He looks at Garin. "How many can that thing 'port safely, son?”

Garin frowns and plays with some of the manipulator's settings. “For a short spatial hop like this, four. Maybe five at max. If we were going much farther, or through time, it couldn't keep more than one matrix stabilized, but from one end of town to the other, four will be fine.”

Rose wishes she knew more about Jack's wristcomp. But she'll have to take Garin's word for it. Except the Doctor and Jack, she's never met anyone that talented with machines.

“Right.” Torrif looks at his crew — all but his second-in-command, who's out to gather intelligence from a contact at the prefecture. “Garin will have to man the suppressor, so me an' Telloo'll go in. Telloo, make sure you bring short-distance blasters in ca-”

“Wait!” Rose exclaims. “I'm going.”

The mercenaries stare at her.

“What? You thought after all this planning I was just going to sit at home while you rescue them? I'm going in!”

“Rose, it's too dangerous.” Torrif shakes his head. “We'll have the element of surprise, but still, the place is crawling with guards. I can't protect-”

“Don't need you to protect me. I can take care of myself. You focus on the Doctor and Jack.” She looks at him, not pleadingly, but with the absolute certainty she'd have if he'd asked her her mother's name. “I'm going.”

Torrif holds her gaze for five full seconds. Then he nods. “Can see I ain't gonna talk you out of this. All right then. Let's talk strategy.”

Just then, the back hatch opens and the tall, blue form of the second-in-command slips in. “Is it working yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. 'Cause I just found out their unit's coming back tomorrow. The mine's been closed down.” He looks at Rose sympathetically. “There's been a cave-in.”

*****

The Doctor huddles against the wall of the director's house with the others. They've been corralled here while a team of specialists closes off the mine.

He should be trying to help. Should care. Not three weeks ago, he would have.

But now, all he cares about is sheltering Jack from the rain as much as possible.

The lad's cradled against his chest — for once, neither the other prisoners nor the guards seem to care — taking deep, slow breaths to keep from hyperventilating. Whatever demons lurk in his memory have been woken, and it's all Jack can do to hold on to the here and now.

The Doctor holds on to Jack.

When the klaxon sounded, he half-dragged Jack out of their spoke, picked him up and ran for the lift. He didn't even look around for the others. He barely managed to get them both up the emergency staircase before his own legs started to wobble. They've been given water since, but no one's thought to feed them.

Sitting here, trying to keep Jack warm as much as he can with his low body temperature, the Doctor feels the fear chilling him warring with the shame trying to burn him up. When did he become so callous? How did the Itawambi turn him into someone who cares only about his own? Someone who won't even consider leaving his lover to try to save more lives?

And yet, he doesn't move.

A few more figures stumble towards them, prodded by a guard. A few more survivors.

As they step into the orange light of the lanterns, the Doctor recognizes Kibir, and curses.

The flames of his shame flare up and engulf him whole.

*****

Rose has been camping out at the train station since first light. If Torrif's information is right, the train with the blokes' unit will arrive here, and then the prisoners will be herded into an armored lorry that will bring them back to the prison.

If she's lucky, if she pays attention and doesn't get noticed, she'll be able to see them, see if they're all right.

They have to be. There are rumors that only about half the prisoners made it out, but Torrif said the numbers are probably exaggerated. She just _knows_ that the Doctor and Jack are alive.

And as long as she doesn't admit even to herself that that might be wishful thinking, her faith in a happy reunion remains unshaken.

A train pulls in from the east. Is that the one? She walks closer to the loading dock, pretending she's just a bored passenger idly looking around.

She's lucky it's so early in the morning. The few Itawambi around all look too tired to care much what she's up to. She sits on a packing crate and waits.

The train comes to a stop. Armed guards emerge from the first wagon. This is it! Rose jumps up.

One of the guards looks in her direction. She quickly bends over and pretends to tie her shoe. If he didn't see her face, he may not have realized she's human. Her blond hair could pass for one of the yellowish hues many old Itawambi have.

She carefully glances over through her fringe. The guards have opened the second carriage. They are all focused on the prisoners now.

Rose straightens and watches. She can feel her heartbeat in her ears. There, is that — yes! It's Jack! Oh, thank god, he's alive.

Pale and thin and bruised, but alive.

As he climbs out of the carriage, he crumples to the ground, and Rose has to bite her lips to keep from crying out. But a second tall shape jumps from the carriage, grabs Jack under the arms, hauls him up, and ducks under his arm to support him. The Doctor! He starts helping Jack, who's limping but seems okay otherwise, towards the lorry, when suddenly Jack's clear blue eyes alight on her. Recognition shines, and he smiles — damn him, in spite of everything, he actually smiles. Rose feels tears running down her cheeks.

Jack nudges the Doctor and jerks his chin in her direction, and the Time Lord turns his head. When he sees her, a wide grin lights up his face for an instance, but then both blokes turn away, look at the ground, and shuffle towards the lorry with the rest.

Right. She can't be noticed, or they'll get in trouble. Rose determinedly wipes the tears off her face and leaves the platform through the passenger terminal. Time to petition for a visit.

*****

Jack sits heavily on his bunk. He hasn't eaten since the night before the cave-in. He hopes the Doctor will be back with their rations soon.

He stuffs his own blanket and what's left of the Doctor's under his ankle and tries to get comfortable.

The barracks is almost roomy now. The cave-in killed over a third of their unit.

Sheer dumb luck that they survived. They had a spoke close to the lift, and it was the back part of the core that collapsed.

His eyes rest on the bunk next to his, on the side opposite from the Doctor's. It was 33-572's — the guy who offered to pick up extra gear for him the day the Doctor was beaten so badly. He didn't make it out. Jack hopes it was a quick death.

He wonders if the mine will be condemned. Probably not. They'll most likely give the rubble time to settle and then have some poor sods dig it out again. He hopes to god it won't be them.

He stretches out a hand to 33-572's bunk. The only kindness anyone ever did for them in this place, and he doesn't even know the kid's name.

In prison for debt. Jack wonders if he had a family.

Looking up, he sees 33-571 watching him. Determined not to repeat his mistake, Jack asks him, "What's your name?"

"Soran."

"Jack." He doesn't hold out his hand, but Soran nods. "Do you know what his name was?

"Zurek. He was my younger cousin."

"I'm sorry. Did he have a family?"

"Got married this spring, baby on the way." He knots his hands into his shirt. "He and I... we took over my father's silk shop together. Went belly-up when... Well, it was my fault. Met a guy who swore he could get us a hundred bales of Purgatian silk at half price if we paid fifty percent up front. I fell for it, gave him all our cash. Zurek called me a moron when I told him." He spits on the floor. "Guy was a conman, of course. Took the money and ran."

Dammit. These guys don't belong in here any more than he and the Doctor. In fact, he deserves it more than they do, because he's run cons like that, even if that's not why he's here. And now one of them will never get home.

He leans over and pats Soran's knee, intending to say something encouraging. He'd have to lie through his teeth of course, but why not? Use his conman skills for good for once.

But before he can even open his mouth, Soran jumps up. "Take your dirty paws off me! I ain't one of you! I have a wife and children!"

He storms out of the barracks before Jack can react.

*****

The Doctor enters the barracks balancing two bowls of thin soup and half a loaf of _takré_ , two bottles of water carried under his arm. In the door, he's almost bowled over by the young 33er — and when did he start to think of people as numbers anyway? Luckily, the bloke sidesteps just in time so no precious food is wasted.

The Doctor scans the barracks. It's empty except for Jack. "Problem?" he asks, indicating the direction the young man stormed in with a jerk of his chin.

"Was trying to be friendly. Soran took it to mean more."

So his name's Soran. The Doctor makes an effort to commit it to memory. He doesn't like this new side of himself, the side that only cares about himself and his own — even wishes death on those it considers worthless. His collar feels tight and he shakes his head to get rid of the memory.

Jack didn't miss that. Course not. "You okay?" He takes the water bottles from him and lays them on the bunk.

"Yeah." He hands Jack one bowl and the half-loaf of _takré_. Jack breaks it in two and gives him the smaller piece. Good. Took the lad long enough to believe him that he needs less food than humans. _You work as hard. Energy doesn't come from nothing!_ Jack had argued. _My body's much more efficient,_ he'd countered. _For a start, I don't run at a ridiculous 37°C!_

He still can't get Jack to take much of his share, but he's glad for every extra morsel he can get into his lover. He sits down next to Jack and dunks his bread into his bowl. Superior Time Lord physiology or not, he's starving.

He's just about to take the first bite when two guards enter the barracks. "Attention!" the younger one barks, and Jack and the Doctor scramble to their feet, leaving the bowls precariously balanced on the bunk.

"24-601, you have a visitor."

The Doctor and Jack exchange a silent glance of worry and hope, then the Doctor follows the guards outside.

They herd him into the contact pad. The younger guard stands outside the door with a rifle, the older one climbs the supervisor's chair hefting a whip.

Rose looks good. Happy, almost. Oh, he can see lines of worry on her face at the sight of him, but there's a glow about her that wasn't there last time, and she seems to be standing taller.

He resolves not to provoke the guards this time. Wouldn't do to spoil Rose's good mood.

"Hello, Father," she says with a smile, touching her knuckles to each other in that ridiculous gesture of respect they do here.

He smiles. "Rose. You look good."

"I feel good." She throws a quick glance at the guard, then stares at him intensely. "I'm going to leave this planet soon."

He blinks. Has she finally given up and decided to use the emergency program? But no. She wouldn't be so happy then. "Are you?" He sees the guard smirk. Bastard's probably glad to think he'll lose his one contact to the outside world.

Rose nods. "Today. Soon as I pack everything I need."

 _Everything._ That includes them. Rose is trying to tell him she'll try to break them out today. He suppresses his worry and the urge to tell her not to do anything stupid and instead assumes the sad expression of a father saying farewell to his child. "Good. You should go back to your mother," he says with a quick nod, trying to convey understanding with his gaze.

"And to my fiancé. You know what they say: 'Nothing shines brighter than two hearts in love.'"

Well, that's easy enough to decipher. Maybe too easy. He looks at the guard worriedly, but the idiot seems to have no inkling anything is going on beneath the surface. _Two hearts_ , that's him. _Shining brightly_ — she can find him with a scanner.

He nods. "Yeah. One shouldn't be apart from one's loved ones." Stay with Jack so she can find him, too. Got it.

Rose smiles and nods. "I'll come back to visit. I promise! Soon!"

He schools his features into a hopeless smile. "Of course you will, child. When?"

"June. Maybe July." Those months don't exist here, but the guard just frowns mildly at the weird alien timekeeping.

The Doctor sees through it, though. The sixth or seventh months. Between six and seven o'clock today. Blimey, it's half five already.

An irrepressible wave of hope almost makes him tear up. He has to concentrate to keep his heartbeats slow and his breathing even. "I'll see you in June or July then. Take care of yourself." That last is said with great emphasis and urgency.

Rose throws him a grin — the one where she curls her tongue around her teeth — and winks. "And you, Father. See you then." With an almost careless wave, she turns and knocks on the visitors' exit to be let out.

The guard slowly climbs off the chair. "Finally had enough of letting a deviant like you soil her name, smart kid." He grins at the Doctor with undisguised glee. "Don't fool yourself, she won't be back. Most fillers' kids don't even make it past the first visit."

The Doctor's full of hope, and the rush of pre-adventure adrenaline makes it hard to keep his tongue in check. Still, any insolent comments could get him punished and kept away from Jack, so he lowers his eyes and slumps his shoulders. "S'ppose you're right. Better for her."

He carefully keeps the dejected pose as the guards lead him back to the barracks, taunting and mocking him all the way.

*****

Jack looks up as the Doctor returns. The guards are at his shoulders, and one of them is sneering and saying something that sounds like "never sully her again."

What happened? Did the Doctor say something rash and now he's not allowed visitors anymore? His lover looks hopeless and dejected.

The Doctor walks over to him and says, loud enough for the other prisoners and the guards to hear, "She's leaving, Jack."

Leaving? Did Rose give up on them? He feels his heart contract painfully. He was counting on her. God, will they be stuck here forever? He never thought she would leave without them. Not that he blames-

The Doctor looks up, and Jack sees a sparkle in his eyes that he hasn't seen in weeks. It's come and gone in a second, but he knows he didn't imagine it.

He understands. She's not leaving _without_ them.

His pulse speeds up. Something's going to happen soon. He waits to make sure the guards are out of earshot, just in case, then he says, "I'm sorry. Today?"

The Doctor nods, sitting on the bunk heavily. He pointedly ignores the soup and bread Jack has kept for him.

Jack tries to look sad despite the wild joy trying to bubble to the surface. "Anything I can do?" Does he need to participate in their rescue? If so, he hopes the Doctor can find a way to tell him how without attracting suspicion. Some of the others hate them enough to turn them in if they knew.

The Doctor sighs. "Just... hold me?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Not that disgusting 24er shit again!" Kibir snarls from his bunk.

Before Jack can say anything, Soran speaks up. "Dammit, Kibir, bloke's just seen his daughter for the last time. Give him a break." A few others mumble acquiescence.

Jack sends Soran a grateful smile as he wraps an arm around the Doctor and pulls him close. He can feel the familiar rhythm of the Doctor's hearts. They are beating fast with excitement. And he can feel tension in every fiber of the Doctor's frame.

To keep up appearances, he gently says, "You should eat something."

"I don't want it. You have it." The Doctor's leaning into him in a way he normally never would in public. Probably not even in front of Rose. It must be really important that they stay close. Maybe someone is going to grab them with a transmat?

"We'll share," Jack decides, and starts dunking the bread into the bowl, alternately feeding himself and the Doctor. It's as good an excuse as any to keep touching, and god knows they can both use the sustenance.

For a moment, Jack allows his thoughts to drift to all the things he will eat as soon as he gets out of here. He has to bite his tongue hard to suppress a grin. _Don't get your hopes up too much, Harkness,_ a little voice inside him whispers.

Yeah, right. Too late for that.

He takes the Doctor's hand and squeezes. God, he wishes he knew whatever it is the Doctor knows. The suspense is kil-

There's a loud crack from outside. Seconds later, klaxons start howling. The Doctor's hand tightens on his. This is it!

A shimmer. An audible pop of displaced air. Rose and a Trithian he doesn't know are standing right in front of them.

Jack jumps up. "Rose!" In his surprise, he forgets about his bad ankle and almost falls as biting pain blossoms up his leg. But the Doctor's risen with him and keeps him upright. Jack vaguely registers the other prisoners staring and shouting in confusion.

"How did you-"

"Not now, Doctor. We don't have much time." Rose is holding her wrist — and his Vortex manipulator — out to the Trithian. "Torrif, quick!"

"Trying. Can't get a fix on all of us." He curses. "Always worked before."

"It's the interrupters," the Doctor says. "Whatever you did to stop them working didn't  
get rid of the residual fluctuations. They'll take a few minutes to wear off."

"We have fifty seconds," the Trithian says.

"Let me try." Jack reaches for the Vortex manipulator. Four is tricky, even under the best of circumstances. There's a bitter taste of disappointment and fear for Rose in the back of his throat. No way can he do it in fifty seconds. But he has to try. Maybe if he reroutes the-

"No, Jack." Rose pulls her wrist away and holds it out to the Doctor instead. Goddammit. For all that the Time Lord is a genius, he is more familiar with his own equipment than his lover.

But then he registers what Rose is holding in her other hand and grins, just as the Time Lord calls out, "Fantastic!"

The Doctor grabs the sonic screwdriver and turns it on the Vortex manipulator. "Everybody hold on to Rose!"

The last thing Jack sees before the barracks blinks out of existence is Kibir's horrified and outraged gape.

*****

Rose squeals as the back alley and the TARDIS spring into being around them. The joy, relief, and residual adrenaline make her dizzy.

"We did it!" She throws her arms around the Doctor, who hugs her back. It feels so good to be in his arms again, even if he's too thin by half and in dire need of a bath. "Oh my god, we really did it!"

"Course you did, Rose Tyler." The Doctor kisses her forehead, and even though he has to bend down to do it, the pride shining in his eyes makes her feel six feet tall. "You're fantastic."

She laughs and lets go, hugging Jack instead. "It's so good to have you back!"

"It's good to be back." He crushes her to him and puts his chin on her shoulder. "Thank you," he whispers.

She kisses his cheek wordlessly, then turns to Torrif and hugs him too. "Thank you for your help, Torrif. Couldn't have done it without you."

Torrif accepts the huge amiably. "We do our best." He clears his throat. "I believe there's a matter of payment?"

Rose nods and pulls the small black pouch she found in the wardrobe room from the front pocket of her jeans. "Here you go."

Torrif takes one look at the pouch and frowns. "That could never fit the amount you-"

"Open it," Rose interrupts before he can get too worked up.

With a huff, Torrif does — and stares. "It's — bigger on the inside."

"Yep," Rose grins. "And you can keep the pouch." Should come in handy in Torrif's line of work. A little thank-you gift in addition to the generous sum of credit crystals she got from the cashpoint yesterday.

Torrif digs around for a few seconds, counting. He pulls out a few cubes and holds them up against the light to make sure they're genuine. Then he feels the pouch from the outside again. "Well, I'll be..."

"Amazing, isn't it?" Jack grins. "And by the way, thank you very much." He reaches out to clasp Torrif's shoulder.

Torrif sidesteps him. "The lady paid."

The Doctor's fix on Torrif. "An' what if she'd hired you to get out some bank robbers? Murderers?"

Torrif shrugs. "The lady paid."

The Doctor nods coldly. "As I thought. Thank you all the same."

Rose swallows. She knew Torrif and his crew weren't helping her out of idealism. But over the past few days she started to like them. Seeing Torrif look at the Doctor and Jack with barely-disguised contempt now, she remembers the day they met, when he called them "deviants." That had been his true colors. Everything since was just professional courtesy.

The awkward silence is interrupted by the sound of sirens in the distance. Torrif looks around. "Looks like the prefects miss you already. Need to get back to my crew. I suggest you three get the hell off this planet." He smiles at Rose, nods at the blokes, and departs without another word.

Rose shuffles her feet. "Sorry. I thought he was nicer."

"Hey." Jack wraps an arm around her shoulders. "You got us out. Don't care if you had to hire Abaddon himself to do it."

The Doctor nods. "Exactly. You were brilliant." He walks to the TARDIS and gently strokes the wooden door, then leans his forehead against a window panel. "I missed you," he says quietly, and Rose knows he's not talking to her.

The Doctor half-turns, but keeps a hand on the wood. "Would you...?"

Oh! Of course. She's the only one with a key.

As she unlocks the door, she starts babbling. "I got all your things back from the prefecture. I washed the clothes and put everything in your rooms. Well, except the screwdriver, obviously, and this." She gestures with her left arm to indicate the wristcomp.

The door opens and the Doctor all but storms in, so intent on reuniting with his ship he seems to have forgotten all else for the moment. Jack tries to follow, but his limp is slowing him down. Rose wraps an arm around his waist. "Here, lean on me."

Jack smiles at her softly. "Always." He uses his free hand to push the door closed behind them.

The Doctor's up by the console, obviously in deep communion with the TARDIS. Rose helps Jack to the jump-seat — he needs to go to medbay, but she can't get him that far. "Should I go and get a hoverstretcher?"

The Doctor looks up. "What? Oh." He looks from her to Jack. "Are you okay there for a minute? I'll help you get to medbay, just want to take us into the Vortex first."

Jack nods, just as Rose opens her mouth to protest. "The Vortex? We're leaving?"

The Doctor cocks his head. "Well, what did you think? Another shopping trip?"

"No, I..." He can't really want to just leave like this! "Aren't we going to fix this?"

The Doctor's eyes darken. "Fix what?"

She sputters. "The hate! The bigotry! The... this whole bloody planet!" He's the Doctor, dammit. This is what they do!

The Doctor's laugh sounds like a funeral bell. "Not something we can fix, Rose. This is not an evil government oppressing its people. It's what their culture is like. We can't change the mind of every single person on this planet. And if we could, we wouldn't have the right to." He looks away from her to the console, adjusting buttons and dials.

Rose looks at her shoes, biting her lip. He's right, she supposes. Still, it feels wrong to just leave.

Jack puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes gently. "The Doctor's right, Rose. Change like that has to come from within." He raises an eyebrow in the Doctor's direction, but keeps talking to her. "Not that he had to snap at you like that, though. After you went to all that trouble to save us, too."

The Doctor looks up, chagrined.

Rose shakes her head, "'S fine."

"Nah, Jack's right. 'M sorry." He holds out his hand almost shyly.

She smiles and takes it. "Isn't there anything we can do, though?"

The Doctor shakes his head.

"Actually," Jack says, and they both look at him. "I was thinking, Doc. About Soran."

"Soran?" Rose asks.

"Guy who was in prison with us. Not exactly a friend, but he and his cousin were the only ones who showed any heart or decency." He looks at the Doctor. "And he's in prison for debt."

The Doctor nods. "Right." He steps to the keyboard and starts typing, occasionally checking a small screen. After about two minutes, there's a bleep.

"There. About a week from now, his debts will be paid by a charity grant. An' he'll get a small stipend to get his business up and running again."

"Thanks." Jack smiles. Rose feels better, too. At least they've helped one person. And maybe they got a few people thinking.

The Doctor slams a lever and they dematerialize. "Right then." He rubs his hands. "Medbay, shower, food?"

Jack sighs contently. "Sounds heavenly."

Rose smiles. "Do you need my help with the first two, or should I go and see about dinner while you take care of them?"

"Think we'll be fine, eh, lad?"

Jack makes puppy dog eyes. "Would I sound terribly ungrateful if I asked you to bring me a cup of tea to medbay? We'll be there a while... And maybe those little biscuits?"

The Doctor perks up. "Do we have Jaffa cakes?"

Rose laughs, "You wouldn't, and we do. Tea tray, then dinner." With another hug for each of them, she hurries off.

*****

The Doctor wraps an arm around Jack and helps him get up. "C'mon then. Let's get you fixed up."

Seeing Jack raise an eyebrow, he adds, "All right, _us_. But we're starting with that ankle."

"No objections."

Jack leans heavily against the Doctor, letting the Time Lord take most of his weight. They start towards the medbay. As they reach the door to the first corridor, Jack stops and strokes the doorjamb tenderly. "We made it. We're really back."

"Yeah." He can't help himself. He turns Jack around and pulls him into a kiss. Medbay can wait two more minutes.

Jack's response is enthusiastic.

This is not desperate, rough, and rushed like most of the kisses they've shared recently. It's slow, and tender, thorough and heated and gently passionate and entirely, utterly fantastic.

He wraps both arms around Jack, holding him up and hugging him close, and deepens the kiss.

Medbay can wait eight more minutes.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Canaana and Wendymr for betaing!

Jack's in the shower, relishing the feel of clean water running through his hair and down his body. He had to shampoo his hair three times before the water ran completely clear, and then he spent half an hour scrubbing himself until every inch of his newly-healed skin was glowing pink and he had to admit that there was not a speck of dirt left on him. Now he's just standing under the shower head, set to maximum, and enjoying the hot water beating on his skin. Thank heavens the TARDIS doesn't have a limited supply, like those old-fashioned boilers from Rose's time. He's been in the shower for an hour.

He's beginning to think that he should get out and sit down. The Doctor has healed the sprain and the bruising, but after a week of standing, walking and crawling on the mauled limb the nerves in his ankle are still agitated, and every time he puts weight on it he feels a gnawing, itching pain. Nothing compared to what it was, but bad enough for him to feel a slight tremble in his ankle.

He reaches for the lever, and realizes his ankle is not the only thing that's trembling. His hand is shaking, and his shoulders, and-

Fuck. He bends over and retches up the meager contents of his stomach.

He watches the water wash them away — brown liquid and half-digested biscuits — and tries to straighten up, to stop dry-heaving, but he can't. Between the pain in his ankle, the slippery shower floor, and the shaking, it's becoming difficult to remain standing at all.

He's about to fall to his knees when strong arms grab him from behind and he's turned around and pulled against a broad chest.

A wool-clad chest. Above denim-clad thighs. He blinks and looks up.

Over the Doctor's shoulder, he sees the leather jacket lying outside the shower on the floor. The Doctor must have shrugged it off — but that was the only piece of clothing he got rid of. His lover is standing under the spray with him fully dressed, right down to his boots, running his hands up and down Jack's back as if that were nothing out of the ordinary.

Jack can't help himself. He laughs. Leaning against the Doctor, his hands fisted in the sodden jumper, he laughs and laughs and he can't stop, and then he's crying and cursing and he can't stop that, either.

The Doctor holds him. He doesn't bother telling Jack things he already knows — _we're home, you're safe now, it's all right_ — he just holds him and lets him rage.

Jack isn't sure how long it takes him to calm down, but once his sobs have turned into quiet sniffles, he pulls back and looks up at the Doctor. He wants to apologize, but he'd only get told off for that. "Thank you," he says instead.

The Doctor nods gruffly and reaches for a washcloth. He gently wipes Jack's face — he must look a mess — then he reaches behind him and turns off the water. He leads him out of the shower — Jack could walk by himself now, but it's nice to have an arm around him — and sits him down on the closed toilet lid. Without a word, the Doctor takes a large, fluffy towel and starts drying Jack's hair.

Jack wants to protest that he doesn't need the help, but he finds himself closing his eyes and leaning into the touch instead. "How come you're okay?" he asks quietly.

The Doctor's dabs the water off Jack's face, then rubs the back of his neck through the towel, massaging the knots he finds there. He leans over Jack to dry his shoulders, his back, down to his buttocks. Jack lifts up a little to help.

Just when Jack's decided he's not going to get an answer, the Doctor speaks. "'M not okay. Just hits me differently. Gonna be overbearing an' moody for a while." He straightens and tips up Jack's chin until their eyes meet. "Probably gonna snap at you a lot. Don't take it personally." He kneels down and starts toweling off Jack's front.

Jack shrugs. "Not like I don't deserve it."

The Doctor is drying his left leg now, gently moving from hip to knee. He doesn't look up.

Jack swallows. Now or never. He has to say it sometime. "If I hadn't kissed you that day..."

The Doctor's rubbing his foot with the towel, methodically drying between the toes. "If I hadn't taken us to Itawamba. If Rose hadn't asked to go silk shopping. If that waiter on Kiophan hadn't spilled the fruit juice, ruining her silk blouse. If the guy who'd ordered it had asked for water instead."

Right. And still. "You don't even like kissing in public." The Doctor doesn't reply, he just lifts up Jack's right leg and starts toweling it vigorously. Jack presses on. "You only do it to humor me. It embarrasses you."

The Doctor starts dabbing at his ankle, drying it with a gentleness that doesn't match the roughness in his voice. "The day I graduated from the Academy, my father was so proud, he put his hand on my shoulder. In public. Gossips wagged their tongues about it for weeks."

"What?"

The Doctor huffs. "'Inappropriate display of emotions; embarrassing touchy-feeliness; lack of proper decorum.' It was a scandal, Jack. _That's_ how I was brought up."

Jack looks away. "So when I kiss you in public, or grab your ass, or nibble your ear..."

"It's far beyond anything I was taught was even imaginable, yes."

"I'm s-"

The Doctor presses his lips to Jack's and swallows down the apology. "Don't _ever_ stop."

Jack blinks.

"Humans have it right, and Time Lord protocol can go hang. There's nothing wrong with showing the worlds I've found the bloke I..." His voice trails off and he closes his eyes with a frustrated snort. When he opens them again, they are clear and certain. "I kiss you back because I want to. Hang-ups be damned."

He stands and pulls Jack up with him. "No reason we should hide. It's the Itawambi culture and 'justice' system that're screwed up. Clear?"

Jack nods. "Clear. Blame the bigots, not the victims. Check."

"Right. Would hug you, but you'd only get wet again." He gestures to his sodden jumper and jeans. "Put on some clothes, I'll go and change. See you in the kitchen in a few?"

Jack nods. As the Doctor bends over to pick up his jacket, Jack can't resist patting his ass, shown off to advantage by the wet black denim clinging to it. The Doctor flexes it in response, and Jack laughs.

"Better go before I forget myself and ravish you, Doc."

"Can't do that to Rose. She's waiting. She's cooked everything."

"Everything?"

"Just about." He swats him gently. "Get a move on."

Jack salutes. "Aye, sir."

*****

The Doctor's sitting with his two fantastic humans at the kitchen table laden with dishes. Rose really went all out. She made fish and chips — and for all that he thinks someone as brilliant as Rose is wasted working at a chippy, he's still glad now she had that job before Henrik's — choree stew for Jack, pancakes, waffles, and a selection of vegetables, fruit, and deserts. They could easily feed a Judoon squad with this.

The Doctor had to explain to her gently, and to Jack sternly, that eating too much after weeks of malnutrition will only result in upset stomachs and lost food. So they've been having little bites of everything, chewing them slowly, while Rose told them her side of the amazing story of their rescue. She's telling it like an exciting tale of adventure, but it's clear between the lines how scared, how worried, how overwhelmed she was.

And still she managed, their Rose. Course she did. She's so clever. So brave. So resourceful. He could burst with pride, even though he's outraged and terrified at some parts of her story.

He exchanges a look with Jack. If either one of them ever runs into that Jando bloke... Though he wishes he'd done something nice for Luo. But it sounds like Rose made it more than worth the man's while.

Jack reaches for another waffle and the Doctor moves the plate away. "Don't overtax your stomach!"

There's a flicker of annoyance in Jack's eyes, but it melts into amusement. "Thank you for reminding me, Doctor."

He ducks his head and shuffles his feet, until Jack takes pity on him and squeezes his hand. "It's okay. I could use some being fussed over for a while."

The Doctor smiles at him. He's grateful Jack understands that aggressive caring is his way to cope with weeks of having to watch Jack suffer.

Rose takes his free hand. "We'll just all take care of each other, eh?"

"Course we will." He beams at them.

The past weeks have taken their toll. Jack's breakdown in the shower won't be the end of it. There'll be nightmares, panic attacks, and even temper tantrums. Jack's excellent at keeping things together when the situation requires it, but once he's somewhere safe, the pressure will out.

Rose will need reassurance and relaxation, too. She needs time to assimilate the things she's seen and done, and it will take her a while to believe they really are okay.

As for himself... Well. He'll be impossible to live with for a while. Lucky he's blessed with companions for whom the impossible is routine.

Will be best if they just drift in the Vortex for a few days. Given his track record, even taking them to a "perfectly safe" destination seems too much of a risk. Can't chance a crisis hitting while they're all still recharging. So the Vortex it is. He and Jack can tinker, that always calms them both down, and Rose can keep them company and chat. And in the evenings, they can watch silly movies in the screening room or spend time together in the library.

Actually, that sounds like an utterly brilliant plan. "What do you say we move to the screening room? Comfier there, an' we could watch one of Rose's girly films." Which Jack also enjoys, for the pretty men and women they invariably contain, and the hilariously holey plots. "Jack and I really shouldn't eat any more, anyway..." He glances at Jack apologetically. "We could take some of the fruit..."

Jack grins. "Is there any chance of some special hot chocolate prepared according to a secret Gallifreyan recipe?"

The Doctor chuckles. "Long as you promise not to try to peek this time." He lets go of their hands and makes shooing motions. "Off to the screening room with you two, then — pick a film. Be along with the chocolate in a bit."

*****

She's curled up against Jack's right side, sipping a mug of the Doctor's utterly fantastic hot chocolate. She has to find out what the secret is. After all, she's just proven that secret missions are not a probl-

She shudders as a chill runs up her spine. Jack immediately pulls her closer, and the Doctor's hand tightens on her shoulder.

"You all right, hon?" Jack asks, taking her mug and placing it on the table.

"Yeah. Course." What right does she have to break down when they're the ones who went through hell?

Jack takes her hands in his, and it's not till he starts gently rubbing them that she realizes they're shaking.

"No, really guys, I'm-" Sobbing. Sobbing and holding on to Jack so tightly he'll probably have some fresh bruises in the morning.

"Shhh, s'okay," Jack says, kissing her forehead. "Even heroes are allowed to cry."

The Doctor gets up and wordlessly moves to sit behind her, hugging her so she's safely sandwiched between her two best mates.

It's so good to have them back.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Taffimai's prompt: Either Jack/Nine or Jack/Nine/Rose. Jack and the Doctor are captured and put in a work camp. At some point Jack is injured but has to continue working. Eventually they escape or are rescued by Rose._


End file.
